


Infinity Dreams

by Dillian



Series: The AU Where Loki is an Avenger [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: ...Shading to Something More, Adopted Sibling Relationship, And Loki Realizes That He May Feel the Same, And Meanwhile Steve Provides Some Stability, And Successfully Woos a Billionaire, As Thor Realizes What He Feels, Christmas, F/M, Love-Triangles, M/M, Unrequited Love, brother-love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillian/pseuds/Dillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has saved Midgard from Jotun invasion and earned a place as an Avenger.  First step is to visit Asgard for Odin's pardon.  After that, the second step is more difficult to discern.</p>
<p>He returns to Midgard, and his place in what is now Avengers' Tower and, with him, goes his brother, who has now begun to act strangely.  Frigga cannot be right with her suggestion that the Thunderer feels love for him, can she?  The kind of love a man feels for a woman or another man (...or in Loki's case, for a stallion, or a Jotun giantess as well)?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Asgard Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ere he can take his place as an Avenger, Loki must first beg pardon from the All-Father.

_”Another beauty,_  
Loved by a Beast  
Another tale of infinitely dreams.  
Your eyes they were my paradise,  
Your smile made my sun rise... 

_Forgive me, for I don't know what I gain,_  
Alone in this garden of pain.  
Enchantment has but one truth:  
I weep to have what I fear to lose.”  
– Nightwish

 

**_The Avengers_ , and _Thor_ , and all situations and characters thereof, belong strictly and solely to Marvel Comics. This is a fan-work, meant for enjoyment only, and not for any material profit.**

 

The signs of Jotun attack are still fresh, when Thor returns with his brother to Asgard, but they are being repaired apace. The entire realm carries a cheerful mien, far different from the air of dread and danger that hung over it when he was here last. Happy greetings come from the workmen as they pass through the city, words of welcome, not to one hero, but to two.

“They are for you, Thor.” By his side, Loki seems ready to sink back into being the pale shadow he once was, but Thor will have none of it. He _must_ not, for is is this not part-cause for his brother's previous hostility?

He tightens his arm around Loki's shoulder. “For _both_ of us, brother.”

At the palace, they are greeted by old friends. Thor spots the smiling face of Volstagg, below it, the smaller smiles of Fandral and Hogun.

“Thor!” Fandral speaks first. “Well-met!” His smile fades a little as he sees his companion. “...And Loki.”

“Loki, out of prison?” Volstagg's unguarded tongue: He was always too quick to speak.

And smooth-tongued Fandral, who must charm whatever the circumstances. “Has there been a pardon? We must toast your brother's release.”

He can feel Loki's shoulder stiffen under his arm. He does not need to look, to know the anger that is on his face.

“Have you not heard my friends, my brother returns to Asgard a hero.” Quick words – _Deserved_ words! – of defense: Did Loki not restore balance to the Nine Realms and return Odin to his place as All-Father? Did he not deceive an entire Jotun army and turn them back to Jotunheimr when they would have attacked Midgard?

“A hero? We have heard not a word,” Fandral says.

From Hogun, “Tell us, Thor.”

And Volstagg as well: “Let us go to The Three Tuns, that you may tell us the whole story. And then indeed most heartily, we will toast your brother.”

“Nay, friends.” The stiffness under his arm tells him that Loki is but seconds away from outburst. What would he give the Warriors Three? Would it be the sharp side of his tongue only, or some piece of mischievous magic? Almost, Thor is willing to let it happen; perhaps his friends would learn to show more respect in the process. “It is a worthy offer, but e'en now, All-Father waits for us. He would hear the tale of my brother's exploits. – He must pronounce his pardon officially.”

Beside him, his brother's muttered comment: “I recognize no authority of All-Father over me. And we had stayed on Midgard...”

His brother has taken to Thor's adopted second home with a fondness that is no surprise. The heroism of the Midgardians, the ingenuity with which they have devised “tech” to compensate for their want of other powers, the generosity with which they have welcomed and taken in one who originally came as a foe: All these are admirable qualities. It took only giving up his former dream of kingship, and meting the Midgardians on their own terms, for Loki to recognize and be pleased by them. Indeed, when his comrades invited Loki to join them as an Avenger, Thor is pretty sure he saw his brother moved, near tears even. It was, he thinks, the first time he has seen tears in those green eyes since... - Well, the time when the bilgesnipe rammed him in the stomach does not count; that was merely the sharpness of the blow that brought tears. – ...Since childhood, it must have been. Loki has always been one to hide his emotions.

They move onward, and soon they are in All-Father's throne room. For once, their father sits not on his throne, but stands at the base of it and, as he sees them, he spreads his arms in welcome.

“My son! – My two sons!” Again, Thor feels his brother's shoulders stiffen. A moment's pause from Odin, ere he speaks again. “Let me say it another way then: I give good welcome to my son Thor, and to Loki, who has shown himself courageous and resourceful in battle.”

“I showed that years ago.” His brother's lips barely move, but Thor can hear the words. “Had anyone cared to notice.” He swallows. Perhaps he should have heeded Loki's words, and returned to Asgard alone.

“Loki.” All-Father's voice is stiff now. “I would give you welcome, but you make it difficult. Let me then, be brief: I watched what you did on Midgard. I saw how you turned aside from selfish desires to work for the good of others. I understand it is your wish to remain on that realm for a time, and assist the warriors who are known as the Avengers?”

A brief nod, his brother's shoulders still stiff with tension.

“I grant you leave. Loki Odinson, you are pardoned.” –

“ _Laufeyson_.” By all the gods, Thor thinks, why must there always be this conflict? Why can his brother not accept their father's words as they are meant? “I will not carry the name of a liar.”

Father sighs. “Loki _Laufeyson_ then,” he says. “Regardless, you are pardoned. You may live freely, wherever you choose. And you cause no harm, you need not face my justice again.” He takes a breath. “I hope you will visit your mother ere you return to Midgard? You do not consider her too a _liar_?”

A soft gust of breath is his brother's sigh, but Loki does not answer. Instead, Thor makes answer for him. “We will both visit her, Father.” Frigga will be happy to see his brother, he thinks. She has always loved both of them the same, blood-kinship or no, and she has not seen Loki since before he left to repair the damage caused by Amora on Midgard. 

Thor kneels. He pulls on his brother, causing him to assume an attitude of submission as well, while their father dismisses them. Barely are they out of the throne room again before Loki explodes.

“Of all the arrogant, self-important... He thinks I care for his pardon? I care not! How dare he presume... I am not of his race. – I am not subject of the All-Father, but hostage only. ...Bastard.”

“Come, brother.” A pat on his shoulder, a note of encouragement in his own voice. He is not used to this new role of peacemaker that has suddenly fallen to him. “We must celebrate! I wish to tell your heroic deeds so our friends may give proper honor.”

“ _Your_ friends.” There's no vehemence in Loki's voice. If anything, he sounds confused. His shoulders are slumped, as though with tiredness, and when Thor puts his arm around him again, Loki leans into it. Almost, his head rests on his brother's shoulder. A lock of hair falls over his face, and Thor feels the strange impulse to brush it away.

This tenderness is new. Not startlingly new; he has been feeling it more and more often, ever since he learned he and Loki were not blood-kin, but it is especially strong right now for some reason. “Brother, this is difficult for you,” he says, his voice gentle. “Why?”

At once, the expected glare of cold, green eyes. “Fool, why do you think?”

“None here care of your parentage…” His voice trails off. He wonders, for the first time, if that is so. “Soon we will be back on Midgard,” he says instead. “The Avengers will be happy to welcome back their new shield-brother.”

“Every one of us with a past.” Loki's voice is soft. “Funny to be in a company where I am not the only death-merchant and traitor.”

“And you, like the others, have chosen to work for good.”

A faint laugh. “You may call it so, brother.”

They have come to a halt, Thor notices. Halfway down the hall, between the throne room and Frigga's chambers, they stand together in an alcove, with his arm still around his brother's... – Around his not-brother's... – Around _Loki's_ shoulder. Impulse seizes, and he pulls him tight, but Loki fights free from the embrace.

“Thor, you forget yourself. What manner of behavior is this?”

Mumbled words: “I know not.” It is true, Thor thinks. He knows not what made him so impulsive. Loki scarce begins to trust him again as brother, and he would push him to be ...to be more... He would push him toward something else, that he cannot even name for himself. What lies beyond brotherhood, he wonders?

“Frigga's chambers are just ahead.” For all his protestations, Loki does seem heartened, as though the embrace pleased him, even while he fought free from it. But perhaps it is just the anticipation of seeing their mother again. “I will be happy to see her again. – She is a good person, brother.”

Thor nods. “She is indeed,” he says, and follows his brother down the hallway.

_______________________

Frigga's chambers feel like home, more than the rest of All-Father's palace. – More than the rest of Asgard put together. – How can Thor not understand that this place, which is home to him, is a place only of torment and shameful memories for his brother? ...For the one he calls “brother”. Loki has given up disputing the title. He's given up fighting against the fact that there is a bond between hm and the Thunderer. If Thor wants to call it “brotherhood”, then let him. He was never one for precision in his designations.

And Thor calls this place “home”. Where is the “home” for Loki? Is he to rest comfortably in the room that was his prison-cell? To pay happy visits to the people who betrayed him when the title of King was his, or look forward to being seen by Odin, should he bother to have time for one whom he once labeled “traitor”? Faugh, let Thor visit Asgard if it is “home” to him. Loki thinks only of the moment when he can leave, and return to Manhattan, and the team of misfits there who were once his foes, and now count him as an ally. They are not his “friends”, – The Sly One has never had one who called himself his “friend” – but they come closer than the company in Odin's realm. Why, he wonders, can Thor not understand that, and let him leave?

Well that would be because Thor does not understand most things, probably. He sails through life on his strong right arm and his golden good humor. He takes all that he is given – With appreciation, mind; Thor was ever the one for sharing his good cheer with others. – and he never notices how much that is, or that others are given less. Where is he now? He has hared off on some errand of his own, visiting the Warriors Three no doubt, who betrayed his “brother” once, or reviving his on-again-off-again flirtation with Sif. Loki is alone with their mother. But never mind that. It is a moment of peace at least, and probably the last such he shall have ere he leaves this realm. 

“What are you thinking of, son?” Frigga's words break into his thoughts. A gentle hand touches his arm. “Returning here after your imprisonment must be difficult. I am happy you made the effort to see your family.”

“My family...” They sit at table. The spiced wine of his mother's brewing and sweet cakes are fragrant, and yet he has no desire to eat. “What does that mean, Mother?”

Frigga has eaten. But the morsel of one cake remains on her plate as residue (and Thor's plate, filled with the residue of many cakes, has been cleared). She sips her wine and, finding it cold, signals for fresh to be brought. “I know you will not believe it, but your father loves you.”

“I was...”

She interrupts: “You were useful to him once, yes. Have you never used one you cared about yourself, son? You and your father is not so very different.”

It is an uncomfortable thought.

“Thor loves you,” Frigga continues. “He would...”

This time it is Loki that interrupts: “He would call me 'brother', but I am not his brother. He is son and heir to All-Father, and I am but a Frost Giant's discard. Why can he see not how that divides us?”

Frigga's words are soft. “I think he seeks a way past that division, son. There are other things besides brotherhood that can unite two men.”

Friendship, she means, and Loki has never been one to have “friends”.

“There is comradeship, the loyalty that binds men as shield-brothers. – Your brother has lauded your heroism, Loki.” A soft laugh. “Already I have heard again and again, how you risked your life to draw the Jotnar away from Midgard. – There are also other types of bonds.”

“Other types?” Frigga's words are too subtle for him.

“Remember, I am of Vanaheim, son. One of the most difficult things I have had to get used to, living in Asgard, is how love is restricted: Men must love women only. In my realm, love is a gift, to be shared freely with all.”

Love is a gift... Of what kind of “love” does she speak? Surely not of the passions that can exist between one being and another? The thought of his brother – Of any of the Aesir! – feeling passion for a Frost Giant is laughable. He lifts his goblet, but he does not drink. Instead, it is a shield for him to hide behind, as his face flames. “You speak comedy, Mother. Thor loves a Midgardian, the woman, Jane Foster. -- At any rate, it is no matter.” Realization hits and, with it, something like relief. “I return to Midgard after this visit, and I am very sure Odin will want his heir to remain here.”

There is disappointment on his mother's face, enough to check his own feelings of satisfaction. For him, the departure will be double relief: With the one move, he escapes Odin and shame ...and the new, strange feelings Frigga's words have awakened. But for his mother, it means only saying good-bye to a loved one. “You are not staying? I had hoped your return as a hero would change how you felt about being here.”

Loki thinks about the reception he's had since he came here. He remembers the Warriors Three and their slights, Odin and his continued insistence that Loki be subject to Aesir law. Why, he wonders, is it always _he_ who must change and not the others? “Mother,” – His voice is soft, but it is sincere. – “You are the only thing I will miss when I leave Asgard.”

Tears sparkling in Frigga's blue eyes twist his heart with grinding shame. “And your brother at least? You will miss Thor when you go?”

“Yes, if I can get him to stay here. From what you said, he will insist on following me, so his love can be 'shared by all'.” The attempt at his old sarcastic humor falls flat, and Loki is reduced to silence.

“Mother, I will return.” He swallows. “I will return as soon as I can, and for your sake I pray I will do it happily.”

“And for your sake as well.” Frigga reaches out to take his hands over the table. “You have been too long estranged from your home, Loki.”


	2. Return to Midgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his brother, Loki returns to the tower. There he finds the Avengers relaxed, enjoying a celebration.

“So, Reindeer Games, you finally made it.” Tony Stark has a glass in his hand when they arrive (of course), and he lifts it in their general direction. “And big brother!” Surprise comes into his voice, as he sees Thor standing with Loki. “It’s pretty quiet around here right now: No alien invasions, no super-villains or plots to take over the world. You sure you won't be bored?”

“...Not that I'm not glad to see you and all.” He stands, comes over for the inevitable hug with which Thor greets everyone. “I just got the impression Loki was coming alone is all. Isn't it hard for Daddy to send you guys here?”

“When balance was restored to the Nine Realms, the Bifrost was restored as well.” Thor frowns. “I am not sure how that worked.”

He's not sure, because he never understands how things work. Loki could explain, but why bother? The inner complexities of the Universe and its magics will forever be a book closed to his brother. 

...Tony however, has a sharp mind, as his mastery of “tech” (the Midgardian equivalent of magic) proves. It is to him that Loki looks as he speaks. “Odin has not _regained_ the position of All-Father as Thor seems to believe. Instead, it is as if he has assumed it for the first time. The bridge comes attendant with the position of supreme authority. – Perhaps you remember, there was one briefly, here on Midgard...”

“In other words, it's a new bridge, gotcha.” Tony nods. “So it's a good thing I set a floor aside for you too, Thor. You want to see it?” He turns. “Loki, you ready to see where you'll be staying?”

Most assuredly he is ready. The thought of having someplace to _stay_ , someplace that is his on his merits, and not by sufferance of a sovereign, is a good one.

“Loki, what's wrong?” And the friendliness that he hears in Tony's voice is good. These mortals may live shorter lives than the Aesir, but they are worthy companions nonetheless. Tony laughs. “You're smiling,” he says. “And not evilly. – You're not coming down with something? Should I have Bruce take your temperature?”

“It is a joke,” Loki says, ere Thor can react. A joke! That there should have come a time when the Trickster would allow others to joke on his behalf... – That there should have come to be others who wanted to...

In this massive tower and symbol of Tony Stark's ego, there is apparently a floor set aside for each of the Avengers. One for Natasha, and one for Clint, one for the Captain, and one (hopefully close to the “tech”) for Bruce. There is a floor for Thor and, just below it, there is one for Loki.

Amusingly, it proves to be the same floor he used when he was on the run, after he'd restored balance to the Realms atop the sacred mountain. “We found your crib.” Tony, playing host as they exit the elevator. “Giant bed covered with bearskins, bathtub big enough for three.” He leers. “That woman-disguise of yours? I'd share a bathtub with her.”

Loki looks around. “I see my Stark-phone's still here.”

“You have good taste in tech, Reindeer Games.” Tony picks it up and hands it to him. “This is a new one though. Same network as the rest of the Avengers', same power-source. – There's one for Thor too, if he wants it.”

“I am very sure my brother will be returning to Asgard.” His hands brush Tony's as he takes the phone. -- And is that a wince he sees cross Thor's face? A slight flicker of anger? He feels left out, that is all. And why shouldn't he for a change? Let it be Odin's heir who is the outsider for once. – “All-Father will pass along any messages he wants him to have.”

Thor's voice: “I do not have to leave quite so soon. I had hoped ...to see my brother settled in first.”

“And yet here I am all settled.” – It is definitely an unhappy look on Thor's face, and it reminds him of all the times he was unhappy himself, in company with his brother's friends. – “You'd better go. I am very sure the Warriors Three have some hard drinking-sessions planned for you at The Three Tuns.”

“Fine with me if you stick around, Point Break.” Tony, airy and casual as always. “Maybe through Christmas?”

“Oh I wouldn't,” Loki murmurs. “Sure as you stay, All-Father will have great need for your services.”

But Thor is looking at Tony now. “Christmas?”

“A silly, mortal tradition, I am sure.”

“Father has no need for me, and I am sure my brother will.” Thor looks at him, and there is appeal in his blue eyes. Ah, but there have been so many times when it was Loki who appealed, and Thor who turned away. “Perhaps I can stay, just through this Christmas.”

“It's just two more weeks.” Tony's voice sounds defensive. Oho, so he's noticed the evil looks Loki is casting at him. “It's a big building, you two don't even have to see each other if you don't want to.”

“We will see each other, I hope...” Thor looks at him. “I hope we will see each other some, brother?”

They will not. The entire point of being here, is that this is _his_ place. He had earned the right to be here on his own merits, and will not go back to being mere satellite to the Golden One.

“This Christmas:” He looks at Tony. “It has something to do with the large tree in the penthouse?”

“Seven feet of fresh-cut Noble Spruce.” As Tony speaks, they all move toward the elevator. “I've got a red-and-gold fake one in storage, – You know, _my_ colors. – but the Captain's all about tradition.”

“And rightly. It is our traditions that give us identity.” Thor's voice, spouting what sounds like Odin's wisdom. “You bring a tree indoors then? And what do you do with it?”

“They kill it.” Loki pulls from long-dead memories: There used to be a tree, Thor's tree, they called it. When the man named Boniface hewed it to the ground, he thought he did it in honor of his own, new religion, but it was the Sly One who whispered the idea in his ear. “The tree is a symbol of the Tree of Life, Yggdrasil, and they hack it into pieces and set flames on the branches, then burn what is left when their celebration is finished.”

“I don't know where you get your information, Reindeer Games.” Tony, as well as Thor, looks disturbed by his words. “Steve can explain. He's good at tradition.”

“I'm good at lots of things.” As if on cue, the elevator doors ping open, showing the Captain, busy with a large tree. Glittering colors, as from polished metal or glass, sparkles from open boxes all around him, but he is intent, it appears, solely on securing the tree in an upright position. “Good to see you, Thor, Loki,” he says. “Hey guys, what do you think? Does this thing look straight to you?”

“Yeah, it's straight.” Tony makes a beeline for the kitchen, and the cabinet where he keeps his glasses. He waves a bottle. “Anyone else want some eggnog?”

“ _Eggnog_ -eggnog, or straight bourbon like the last time?” It is only when he speaks that Loki notices Bruce on the sofa. “You got me that way once already. – Oh hi, Loki, Thor.”

“The eggnog is purely metaphorical.” Tony puts what looks like a cardboard box, on which Loki can just make out the word “eggnog”, onto the counter. “Like the Vermouth in a martini.” He pours glasses of brown liquid for all of them.

“Guys, a little help here?” Steve's voice, sharper this time. “Is it straight, or isn't it?”

“Straight? The tree?” His brother, obtuse as always. “It stands at an angle, Friend Steve. May I assist in straightening it?”

“Thanks.” Steve disappears again under the branches. “The problem is I can't adjust it and look at it at the same time. I ask Bruce, but I don't think he can tell. – Too much of Tony's 'eggnog' maybe.”

“Art was never my best subject.” Bruce gets up off the sofa and goes to the kitchen. “Come on, Loki. If we let Stark pour our drinks, we'll be drunk off our asses before the tree's even ready to be decorated.”

The glass in his hand, half-full of brown liquid. Loki eyes it. “This is drinkable?”

“That's pure bourbon.” Bruce for his part, dumps half of his down the sink.

“Wait, no fair.” Tony grabs his arm. “That's Buffalo Trace aged sipping whiskey. At least give it a try.”

“I did.” Bruce opens the cardboard carton and pours creamy fluid into his glass. “It tastes just like bourbon.”

“And eggnog tastes just like ass.” Tony's expression is very like a pout. “You'll drink it with me at least, won't you Reindeer Games?”

“I’d appreciate it if you called me by my name.” Loki takes a gulp from his glass, the liquid fiery, more potent than the strongest ale he has tasted on Asgard.

“A friendly nickname.” Tony leans against the counter, takes a sip from his own drink. “Loki's just so short, so basic.” His lips turn up a little. “I could call you Luca.”

Luca, the name of his female counterpart, when he was on the run in Manhattan. There is unfinished business between her and Tony.

A quick swallow, and Loki's finished his drink. He holds out the glass for more. “So this 'eggnog', is it anything like a pecan pie latte?” He picks up the cardboard carton with the “eggnog”, meets Tony's eyes with a cool smile. “Have you got any whipped cream to go on this?”

This time there's no doubt about it when Tony's hand brushes his, as he takes the carton away. There's no doubt about the emotion in his voice either, and it's exciting. “Some people like sugar too much for their own good.”

No Tony, some people like _danger_ too much for their own good, and sometimes the things that aren't “for your own good” are the best things. Loki holds the brown-eyed playboy's gaze, as he takes the carton from the counter and pours a large splash of eggnog on top of the bourbon in his glass. He opens the refrigerator and takes out a can labeled “whipped cream,” its spray-top easy to manage, while he fills the glass the rest of the way to the top. He takes a drink, and the stuff is foul beyond all description, but the look that goes across Tony's face as he licks the cream away, makes it all worth while. 

From the living room, comes a voice. “Oh no Tony, don’t even think about it!” Loki looks to see the Captain's glare, from behind the now perfectly aligned Christmas tree. “You're not going to have a drinking contest with Loki.”

“You would lose at any rate.” Thor's voice. “My brother has an immortal's constitution. I have drank many a mortal under the table, as you say, and I am very sure he could do the same.”

“Oh now you're making it tempting.” Tony catches his gaze, and Loki finds himself looking into pure evil, sparkling in those brown eyes of his. “Loki, is your brother right? Have you got 'an immortal's constitution'?”

“He doesn't have the experience I have with drinking, though.” Thor, in the living room, is now tangled with green cords and sparkling, winking lights. “Many are the evenings I have enjoyed at The Three Tuns with my friends. – We invited Loki, but he always stayed home, preferring his studies.”

“I stayed home, because you were a bunch of drunken louts.” Loki tells himself it is disappointment that goes across the Thunderer's face at his words, but in truth, it looks more like pain. “Besides, the place was noisy, and smelt of beer,” he adds, softening his tone.

“Sounds like some of my favorite hangouts.” Tony too, seems to feel some guilt. He sets his glass on the counter, and goes over to the tree. “Never say Tony Stark doesn't help out.” Interestingly, he brushes his lips against Steve's cheek, as he leans in to take a box from him. “What do you want me to do, old man?”

Promiscuous Tony: How many of the people here is he going to flirt with tonight? The thought is more than a little exciting. 

The Captain's face remains stern. He is all-business ...or perhaps he knows more than he appears to, about what happened in the kitchen. “Why don't you go through the box and make sure all the ornaments have hooks on them?” 

“Great.” Tony, sounding a little cowed, takes the box to the sofa. “So I'm a hooker?”

Faint smile, not patient looking, from Steve. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Hooker” is a Midgardian term for a harlot, or trollop. The Captain definitely knows what happened in the kitchen, and he is angry about it. But angry, why? Because he's tired of Tony's flirtatious behavior? Because there's something developing between the two of them? Suddenly the room seems full of undertones and potential places of tension. 

Loki slides onto the sofa next to Tony. “Here, I'll help.” This time he keeps half an eye out for Steve's reaction when he touches Tony's hands, and it is a quick one, and gratifyingly impatient.

“Perhaps you'd better help me with the tinsel instead, Tony.”

“No wait.” But of course there is a protest. Tony Stark is not one to be unmanned in front of company. “I was happy with what I was doing.”

There is an irritated snort from Steve. “I'm sure you were. But I think we've got enough hookers on the sofa.” 

“By all means, go ahead.” Cat's smile in place, Loki goes through the box, taking out the colored balls and checking that they all have wire hooks fastened to them. “If you would have the Captain tell you what to do, Tony, pray do not let me stop you.” What is the point of the teasing, he knows not. These are his comrades, his shield-brothers, and really, he should not torment them. But there is one here who would be more than a brother to him (or so their mother gives him to understand), and who yet never scrupled to think of the pain he gave him with his prolonged visit to Asgard. Thor stands where he stood, still tangled in his rope of twinkling lights, and there is pain in his blue eyes, and Loki would be lying if he said it did not feel good to see it. 

A body plops down on the sofa next to him, and he turns. Bruce takes the package of hooks from where Tony left it on the coffee table. “Don't be a dick, Loki.” He keeps his voice an undertone.

“A 'dick'?” For his part, he is lofty, bored almost. “Your strange Midgardian expressions...” 

“An asshole,” Bruce says, “I know you know that one. Steve's a good guy, and Tony needs someone to stabilize him.” He disentangles one of the small wire “hooks”, and shows Loki how to fasten it onto one of the glass balls.

“Tony Stark and stability are two words that do not belong in the same sentence.” A wave of his hand, and Loki has one of the fiddling-little hooks attached to each of the balls. He eyes the tree and raises his hand again.

But Bruce catches it. “It's a tradition. We do it the old-fashioned way.”

And that a mortal would tell _him_ about doing things “the old-fashioned way”! Loki snorts. “What does that mean for your kind? How things were done twenty minutes ago? A half-an-hour at most?”

“It means whatever happened back at Asgard, you're not allowed to come home and start fucking with everyone. And if you do...” Bruce gives him a brief grin. There is humor in it, but more tension than he probably knows. “If you do, I'll let the Other Guy out and he can take care of you.”

Over by the tree, the Captain has taken charge of his assistants. Thor finally has himself un-wrapped from the lights, and he has the tree wrapped in them instead. Tony adds festoons of the sparkling stuff Midgardians call “tinsel”.

“You'll put this on top, right Loki?” He looks up and finds Steve, the Captain of the tree-decorating, pushing the effigy of a large, winged female into his hands.

“A Valkyrie? The imagery is incorrect. It is their horses only that are winged...”

“An angel.” There is sternness on the Captain's face, but there is friendliness also. “Because Christmas is a time of peace and good-will toward all, and that includes demigods who are mad at their brothers.”

Loki looks over at Thor, who is now attaching the glass globes, all properly fitted with hooks, onto the branches of the tree. “Mad” scarce covers how he feels about him right now. But if not “mad”, what then is the correct word to use? 

He looks up at Steve. “Weak, Midgardian 'angels', who counsel peace but are not willing to fight for it...” The words die away. One thing he would never task his new comrades for, is _not_ fighting for what they believe in. “I will place it where it goes,” he says, his voice milder. “Where is that? On the top of the tree, did you say?” 

“Please.” Steve takes a step to the side, opening access to the tree. He's forgotten who he's dealing with, apparently. Loki passes is hand over the “angel” and it flies, rather as its namesakes must have done, to land perfectly at the very top of the tree. 

“I wonder what these 'angels' of yours were, really. The dragon Fafnir...” He lets the words die, as it is quite clear no one is listening.

Instead, the others are busy attaching each of the glittering balls to one of the branches of the tree. It is ridiculous, fiddling work, for a group of warriors. -- Thor in particular, looks quite comical, with his brow knit and just the tip of his tongue protruding. – But the scene, which should be laughable, is instead endearing, comforting almost. As his comrades begin on the second box of ornaments, Loki joins them, not enchanting the ornaments onto the tree, but instead _placing_ them there, with the same minute care as his brother.

Finally, they are all attached. “Okay, everybody ready?” Steve stands with two cords in his hands, halfway between the wall and the tree. 

Thor speaks: “Ready for what?” As if in answer, Steve attaches the two cords, and immediately, the tree is covered with twinkling, colored light. It is, in its way, rather beautiful.

A moment later, there is a snapping, buzzing sound, and the lights disappear. “Aww, shit!” comes Steve's muttered exclamation.

“Tsk, Cap, such language.” Flirtatious Tony has his hands all over the Captain's, taking the cords away and separating the two from each other. “If we'd used my tree: I told you, the Stark-lights...”

“Are lasers.” Interestingly, Steve does not move away from Tony. Instead, he almost seems to move closer to him. “Who puts lasers on a Christmas tree? When I was a kid, one lightbulb didn't stop the whole damn cord from lighting up. – You got me a set of vintage lights on Ebay, remember? What's the matter with those?”

“Only that they shorted out my whole power-grid when we tried them out.” The two men are very close. Loki finds himself wishing that his mother were here. This, this, he would tell her, is what it looks like when two men love; it is not like his brother, with his clumsy hugs that are the same hugs he has always given. Then he pushes the thought away. Tony Stark has almost as much chaos in him as he does. It is impossible that he can give himself to one person only. “Let's face it Cap, technology has changed since the 40's.”

“It’s traditional, right?” Bruce has a box with what look like more, very tiny ornaments in it. “Every year one of the lights burns out and takes the whole cord with it. Then you spend the rest of the night tracking down the dead bulb.”

“Not me. I'm going to have more eggnog. – Anyone want to join me? We can get lit up instead of the tree.” His words to the contrary, Tony's right there with the others, removing tiny bulbs, replacing them, and then continuing down the cord. He works with Steve and Bruce, the three of them circling and re-circling the tree, until finally, not one but two errant bulbs are found, and the tree is lit again.

Loki watches, interested in spite of himself. The past is evident in this Midgardian tradition. Before they used these electrical lights, the Midgardians used the kind Steve misses so badly. And before that, no doubt they used candles. Once, certainly, this was the rebellion against the Gods of Asgard, that it amused him so to encourage. – If you took the tradition far enough, you reached Boniface, who had hacked those who worshiped Thor, as enthusiastically as he'd hacked the tree. – But it is lovely in its way, withall, and the lights of the tree are like a hearth fire, bringing them all together in their glow. 

“It is beautiful, isn't it?” Loki turns, surprised to find his brother on the sofa next to him.

“It is a lot of mortal foolishness.” He feels troubled. – Wherefore these feelings, just from having his brother close? – Loki grabs the glass with the disgusting eggnog and raises it to his lips.

Before he can drink, Thor takes it. “Patience, brother. Friend Stephen says he will make mulled cider for us after the tree is finished. He says it tastes better than 'eggnog'.” He sets the glass on the table, but he does not let go of Loki's hand. “Can we not sit together for just a moment, and enjoy the lights of the tree?”

The lights... And the scent of it. In truth, there is no fragrance like that of evergreen boughs, freshly-cut. It tickles his nostrils with every inhalation and, in spite of himself, Loki relaxes.

He allows his hand to remain in Thor's. How many times in the past, have they held hands? And this means no more. Brothers hold hands, that is all.

From the kitchen, he can hear the others' voices. Tony tells Steve that the mulled cider would be better with some bourbon in it. Bruce comments on the snacks he is taking out of the refrigerator. “Mini-tacos? Samosas? – You realize, samosas are supposed to be hot?”

“Screw that, I'm hungry,” comes Tony's voice. And then, “you want to share a potsticker with me, Cap?”

Loki half expects his brother to leave when the food comes out, – The have not eaten since Asgard. – but instead, he remains where he is.

“The food.” He's irritated, he tells himself. The Thunderer is too close, his hand too hot and sweaty. But the feeling inside him isn't irritation. It isn't any feeling familiar enough to have a name. “You must be hungry after our journey.”

“Our friends will bring the food when it's ready.” Thor slides closer. He puts his arm around Loki's shoulder. “Do you want me to go, brother?”

Thor's arm is warm. He smells, like he always does, of armor oil and the faint ozone-smell of lightning from Mjolnir. Loki feels immensely childish, sitting there with his big brother's arm around him, but he feels a little something else as well, a little ...what? “I don’t care,” he mumbles. “You may stay or you may go, it is of no matter to me.” It's a lie of course, but what is the truth? The problem with being a liar, is that sometimes you hide reality so well you can't even find it yourself.


	3. Morning at the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor finds that Friend Stephen, at least, understands his troubles. He also has suggestions to make, about how to share the culture of Midgard with Loki.

Dawn breaks with clouds and rain. In truth, his first experience with Midgard was a deceptive one. The weather in New Mexico, with its sunshine, clear skies, and fragrant mountain wind, mirrored well, that on Asgard. Even on his second visit, the unfortunate one when he had to fight his brother, the weather was remained warm. Not so more recently. Thor thinks about the cold winds that blew, when he and his comrades took Loki back to Shiprock. He remembers waking to find a white coating on the grass outside their hotel in Gallup: Frost, he remembers Bruce telling him, and sometimes later on in the winter, there would be snow as well. Fascinating, to be in a realm that ranges so widely, sometimes beautifully sunny as in his own realm, sometimes as snowy and bitter-cold as Jotunheimr itself.

And now today there is rain. He looks out the window of the bedroom Friend Tony has so kindly provided, at skies so dark it might almost still be night. Through rain-slick glass, he sees the lights of the city doubled, in the elongated reflections on the wet city streets. A strange sort of weather; already he is curious to what strategies his friends will use to adjust.

Thor rises. The room is cold, but what of that? Blessed with the vitality of the Aesir, he feels little discomfort. He assumes the night-attire Tony has left for him. – A strange Midgardian custom, this! Thor sleeps unclothed. Wherefore would he do otherwise; there is none to see him when he is abed, and he has his blankets for warmth. Here however, they do differently, thus the “pajamas” he has been given, with their feet shaped like rabbits, and their their thick, pink-patterned fabric. It makes no sense to him, but he would honor Midgardian tradition. – Thor seeks the elevator and makes his way to the penthouse, in hopes of finding something to break his fast.

Upstairs, he finds only Steve out of bed so far. He has a pan on the stove, from which issue delicious smells, suggestive of eggs and sausage. The fragrance of Midgardian coffee fills the air, and another scent that comes, Jane Foster taught him, from toasted bread.

“Good morrow, Friend Stephen!” He takes a cup from the rack next to the coffee pot. “Will you tell me, pray, did you make enough coffee that I may share some?”

“Morning Thor. You're up early.” Deftly, Steve slides the contents of his pan onto a plate. “The others won't be up until at least seven. – Want some breakfast?”

“I hesitate to take what you prepared for yourself.” Thor's heart hesitates, but his stomach is awake and clamoring, at the sight of the eggs, perfectly fried, and the plump sausage links.

Steve's clap on his shoulder is also a push toward the table. “Never mind,” he says. “I'll make more. Frying eggs isn't hard.” A laugh, as he opens the refrigerator and takes out the box with the eggs. “Side-advantage of the super-soldier serum: I can eat whatever I want. Tony says he would _kill_ for my cholesterol-levels.”

“The same is true for the Aesir.” At-table, Thor sets in hungrily, making short work of the eggs and delicious toast his friend has given him. “The apples of Idunn, which give us immortality, give perpetual good health as well.”

“Your people are strange to me, Thor.” Sizzling sounds at the stove tell of eggs being slid into a hot pan. Thor smells the aroma of more bread being toasted. He hears a rattle as Steve salts the eggs. “You're so powerful, and you live for so long, that people used to take you for gods. – It's science though, right? Science that's so advanced beyond what we have here, that it looks like magic or miracles.”

“I do not know.” Thor's finished with his breakfast already. He swirls the last of his coffee, now too cool to drink. “You would have to ask my brother, Friend Stephen. He understands these things better than I.”

Taking his cup from him, Steve refills it. He brings a plateful of extra toast when he sits down to eat his own breakfast. “Yeah,” he says, “your brother knows a lot, doesn't he? – You guys sort of have this thing where he's the smart one and you're the strong one, isn't that right?” 

Thor bites into a piece of toast. Meditatively, he chews. “I am the one favored by our father, that's what Loki says.” He frowns. “Our father loves both of us.”

For a few minutes, Steve just eats. He slices the whites of the eggs bite-sized, then uses his toast to catch the golden yellow of the yolks. Finally, he looks up. “Of course. Family loves each other. – Your brother's kind of prickly sometimes, though.”

“Prickly?” The word reminds him, for some reason, of the little hedgehogs that live in the meadows near Asgard. No larger than rabbits, they are without sharp teeth or claws; their only defense is the spines they wear on their backs. How angry Loki would be, he thinks, to be compared with such!

“He's hard to get to know.” Steve meanwhile, clarifies what he said before. “Hard to get close to, like a porcupine.” He drinks some coffee. “I can't imagine trying to hug him.”

Thor laughs in spite of himself. “It was difficult...” He catches himself. That was not what Steve meant.

“Last night?” There is a change to Steve's voice. There is new concern in it now, something that sounds too close to pity for Thor's comfort. “I saw. Yeah, he did everything but shove you away, didn't he?”

“He has a right. My brother may choose who he gives his love to.” This defensive tone is not what he meant. His friend means only the best for him, he knows it. And yet it comes naturally. “We were raised as brothers.”

“And you're really adopted, aren't you?” There is no anger in Steve's voice, no judgment for his own abrupt tone. “I remember, you told us on the heli-carrier. – You didn't sound like you thought it was such a good thing.”

A good thing, a bad thing: Loki is a creature of chaos, child of the Frost Giants, that dangerous, half-savage race. And yet, he is more than a brute, as if the dangerous nature he was born with has been wedded with... Not with the warlike spirit of the Aesir, but with the subtle wisdom that is their mother's Vanir heritage. If that be good or if it be bad, Thor cannot tell. Perhaps, he thinks, it is both.

“He is my brother but not my brother...” It is difficult to express his feelings. Thor has never been good with words. “Loki is a creature apart. – If he were more like me, I think he would be less interesting.”

Steve laughs. “I know the feeling. Weird how the chaotic kind are always the most interesting ones, isn't it?”

Thor stands. “May I get more coffee? _Is_ there more coffee, Friend Stephen?”

“Get me some too.” Steve holds out his cup. “You better watch that stuff,” he says. “Too much of it, and you'll be a creature of chaos yourself.”

“And then who will watch over Loki ...and Tony?” It is only as he says the words that Thor realizes that both of them are facing the same problem. He can't help looking more closely at Steve, as he sits back down. 

“What do you suppose would happen if we just let them look after themselves for a while?” Steve's words falter. He looks at Thor. “Have I got egg on my face? Why are you staring?”

“Forgive me Friend Stephen, I just realized...” _I just realized that we are both men in love... – That Friend Tony might be just as painful to love as my brother..._ Thor gulps burning hot coffee while he searches for the words to say. 

“Never mind.” Steve punches his shoulder. “You don't have to burn your mouth. – And you don't have to go all soft and wishy-washy on me either. I think we both get it.”

“Thank you.” Thor puts his mug down. He stares down into what's left of the coffee. They “get it”, as Steve says, but what do they get? That they have both set their hearts on difficult men? Does that make them wrong? – Fools? “I’m sorry, Friend Stephen, I don’t want to be rude.”

“You're not rude.” Steve swirls the coffee in his cup and takes a drink. “And you're right, there's a lot of similarity between Tony and your brother.”

“And yet you...” Thor looks at him. 

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe my life's too boring without him. Get up, work out, occasionally fight a bad guy for SHIELD: What kind of a life is that?”

“One thing life with Tony will never be, is boring” Thor finishes the thought. “But why do I find myself pursuing my brother? – Part of me still feels that it's wrong. We were raised as brothers.”

“Why do you?” Cradling his mug in his hands, Steve looks at him. “We all thought you had a thing for Dr. Foster.” 

The Lady Jane: She, who is so calm, so sensible. – So different from Loki, with his moods and his chaos. “She is a beautiful woman, beautiful inside and out.” Thor speaks slowly, searching for the words he needs. “Any man should be proud to earn her love. But my brother...” He pauses, gestures. “How can I explain, Friend Stephen? When he fell from the Bifrost, we all thought him dead. Then when he returned... – When he became an ally, instead of a foe... – There are feelings inside me I never let myself feel before, and now I have the chance.”

Steve nods. “Like he's back from the dead.” --

“Like he is back from the dead, and I have the chance I despaired of getting. Now I can tell him what I feel for him. – I can show him all the things I love about Midgard. ...Share them with him, if you see what I mean, Friend Stephen.”

“Yeah, Tony keeps wanting to do that to me too. He's always coming at me with, 'oh, here's something about the future you're just going to love, Cap,' and, 'here's something else you're really going to love.'” Steve laughs. “And usually I hate it. I still miss the days when 'fun' meant listening to Glenn Miller while you looked at the Rita Hayworth pictures in _Life_. I don't get video games. I don't get movies full of explosions, or music that sounds like a bunch of cats fighting while the band takes apart the stage.”

Thor has to laugh. Tony has played his music for him too. 

“He comes on too strong sometimes,” Steve says. “There's no time-limit. He doesn't have to show me everything right away the same day.” He looks at Thor. Unspoken, the words, _mayhap you come on too strong sometimes as well_...

“Coming on too strong”, means pushing. It means demanding what the other person is not yet ready to give. “I fear my brother may never be ready to return the love I feel for him. There is so much anger in him, Friend Stephen, so much bitterness from long years when I never knew it was there.”

There is a long silence. They just look at each other, holding their coffee cups in their hands. Finally, Steve speaks. “There's no time limit anyway,” he says. “That's the good thing about you both being immortal.”

Patience, that is what his friend counsels. It is, Thor knows, the only way he will get through to Loki. ...If he can get through to him at all. “Your words are difficult, Friend Stephen.”

“Yeah well.” Steve shrugs. He turns his wrist, glances at the small timepiece he wears there. “It's almost seven, anyway. The others should be up soon. I think Tony's got a business meeting today...” He grins. “Which he'll probably skip out on at the first suggestion we've got anything better to do. – What do you want to do, Thor?”

“I want to share Midgard with Loki.” Perhaps he cannot make his brother love him right away as he would like, but can they at least share some happy moments together? Possibly something to do with this Midgardian holiday, Christmas? “What would you suggest,” he asks Steve.

“Midgardians put presents under the tree.” Steve looks at the giant evergreen they just barely decorated together, the night before. “By Christmas morning you probably won't be able to see that thing. We're all drawing names for who we're going to buy for, and I think Tony said he was going to buy presents for everybody.” His smile turns warmer. “The idea is to buy something special for the people you care about.”

“Like my brother.” Thor can see the attraction. Loki's sword is back in Asgard. And he had one too in this realm... – Or a warm cloak to keep out the cold Midgardian rains... But his brother enchants whate'er he needs. He frowns. “It is difficult finding a gift for someone as skilled in magic as Loki.”

“Like buying for the guy that has everything, yeah.” Steve nods. “What you have to do is give a present that's from the heart, something that reminds the other person of you every time they see it. – It doesn't have to be expensive.”

_Expense_ is not going to be a problem. Thor has brought gold aplenty with him from Asgard, and he knows from his last visit that this will be greeted with enthusiasm by the sellers here. It is Steve who is troubled by expense, isn't it? The people here are not generous, and do not give a man money just for being a hero.

He pats Steve's arm. “We will shop together, Friend Stephen. And together we will find gifts that are from our hearts.”

“Shopping? Did somebody say shopping?” Tony comes up behind Steve and puts his arm around his neck, brushing a kiss across his cheekbone. “As in you and the Cap going out together?” He grabs the last of the sausages and takes a bite. “Cold. You wound me, Cap.”

“Well if you got up earlier,” Steve grumbles. “Why do you care, you always have those disgusting smoothie-drinks of yours for breakfast anyway?”

“It's the principle of the thing.” Tony kisses him again, on top of his head, in passing. “Sausages should be hot. These things are a crime against nature. ...Also your coffee...” He takes a packet out of the cupboard, tears it open, and dumps greenish powder into another Midgardian cooking device. Adding liquid, he caps the device and pushes a button. Horrible growling sounds begin, and Thor sees the liquid blend through the device's glass walls. Tony turns it off and pours thickened green fluid into a glass. “So, shopping,” he says. “Who's going? And do they need a guide, because I have a Board meeting at 11:00, but I think it would only be right to spend the morning showing my visitors around the city instead. Especially since you guys just saved the world for us and all.” Still standing by the counter, he takes a gulp of his green liquid.

Steve looks a little wary. “Thor wanted to show his brother something about Midgard, so I thought I'd take both of them. – The thing with presents, Tony, is they have to be a _surprise_. So that means _not_ being with each other while you pick them out.” 

“...And so you need somebody to watch Loki while Thor picks a gift out for him. I completely understand.” Another gulp of the green fluid; it scarce moves in the glass as Tony drinks it, and Thor can only imagine the taste. “So of course I should go too.”

“Go?” Bruce enters the room. “Go where?”

“We were just talking about taking Loki shopping.” Tony waves a hand. “Of course I offered to help.”

“You're going to take _Loki_ shopping. – Please tell me you mean to a grocery store?”

“Thor too.” Steve frowns uncomfortably. “So they can see how Midgardians buy presents.”

“You mean like a mall? You're not seriously taking Thor and Loki to a mall? Just think what might happen.”

Steve's frown grows deeper. “Well I'm going too. And Tony.” He looks at Thor. “You sure you want to do this?” 

“Do what?” The others jump when Loki is enters. He is perfectly dressed and groomed at this early hour, and he surveys the rest of them with a cool look of amusement. “Stark, what misbegotten beverage is that? And you had waited, we could have gotten lattes together across the street.” He turns to Thor and raises an eyebrow. “What sort of garment is that?”

Ah yes, it is only now that Thor remembers: He still wears the Midgardian “pajamas”. Uncomfortable: “They are pajamas.”

Loki studies him. “There are animals on your feet. Rabbits. And I had known you liked wearing rabbits on your feet, brother...”

Thor swallows. “ Friend Tony gave them to me.” 

His brother looks Tony's way. “Ah then you are the one who would wear forest creatures on his feet, are you?” He raises a hand.

Steve interrupts. “We were just saying how we're going shopping today, Loki.”

“And I was just saying it's a bad idea,” Bruce says. “Have you ever been to a mall right before Christmas, Steve?”

“Right _before_ Christmas? Two weeks? Back in the day I used to wait until Christmas Eve to do my shopping.” 

“Times have changed,” Bruce says darkly. “That's all I'm saying. – Oh, and if this has to happen, I'm coming along. You guys need somebody who knows what we're getting into.”


	4. The Shopping Mall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stores are explored, gifts are purchased, and ...a little bit of fun is had in the process.

It's actually not all that bad at the mall when they get there. It's New York, so they take a taxi and there's no parking to worry about. Thor is very impressed by the awning that protects them from the rain on their way in, not to mention by the fact that all the stores are indoors. Bruce is impressed by how non-crowded it is, probably because it's a weekday. Mostly there are just moms with small children and a few old people power-walking the perimeter. He can feel the Other Guy stirring restlessly inside him, but it's not bad, nothing he can't handle. Who knows? Maybe he likes the Christmas Carols that are playing over the loudspeaker.

Thor looks around with a huge smile. He takes in the festoons of tinsel and the huge, glittering balls hanging from the ceiling. “Never have I seen such splendor on Midgard.”

Loki looks around with an edgy expression. He sights a beauty supply place and a nail salon. “What do these merchants sell? Nails? 'Shampoo'?”

Steve looks a little dubious as well. Maybe he's sighted the big Dress Barn across the way. “Shopping's kind of a women's activity. You sure there are stores here where we can find gifts?”

Up to Bruce to keep the peace. “There's enough stores here that _everyone_ can find a gift.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I for one, plan to make my gifts.”

“Myself as well.” Loki smiles. “This Midgardian custom offers some ...interesting possibilities.”

He's just trying to be difficult. They both are. And doing a damn good job of it. So the billionaire and the super-sorcerer are above getting their presents at a common shopping mall? It's not like they're the only ones on this trip. Steve and Thor really want to be here, and as for himself, Bruce would kind of like to find a few presents for the others as well.

“You guys want to go off on your own? Fine.” – He catches himself, remembering who he's talking to. – “I'll make you a deal: You let me look around, and after that we'll go someplace you like.”

“How do you know where I _like_?” Loki tilts an evil green-eyed glance his way. 

“We'll go...” Bruce thinks. “We can get one of those pecan pie lattes...” He catches Steve's eye. “...Ah, I'll take you to see Santa and his elves,” he finishes lamely. “That's always fun.”

He's hooked Tony. He can tell by the evil grin that crosses his face. Thor too, looks up with an interested expression. “Elves? Some of the best craftsmen are of elvish birth...” 

“They will not be that sort of elves, brother.” For whatever reasons of his own, Loki seems to have decided to behave himself for a change. He looks around, sights the big sign with the mall directory. “Here is a map.” He studies it for a moment. “It says there is a book store. I wish to go there. I will of course, permit Bruce to purchase his gifts first.”

Thor studies the map with a wrinkled forehead. “There are so many merchants here. How is one to find the correct one?” 

Steve, next to him: “I count 25 ladies clothing stores. And that's not even starting on the ones for make-up and the hair salons...” 

“Here.” Deep inside, Bruce can feel the Other Guy grumbling. _Take it easy,_ he thinks, _things'll settle down after I get the group divided up. ...I hope._ He points. “Here's a Radio Shack. If you can't find something for Tony there, there's a GameStop a couple stores down. That's video games, everyone likes those. ...And Thor,” --

”What to get the crazy demigod who has everything?” From behind, he can hear Tony's snerk. –

“You're probably best off going to the bookstore.” He points. “If you have your Stark-phone with you, I'll call and let you know when we leave.”

“Well I want to go to Santa's workshop...” – Tony catches Loki's eye ( _Loki_?) and settles down. – “I guess I can find something to do at the bookstore.”

“And we'll meet up for lunch in a couple of hours.” Inside, he can feel the Other Guy relax again. Yeah, maybe they're going to get through this thing without mayhem after all. “Has Thor ever had a cheeseburger before?” 

“I have not.” Thor too, seems to have relaxed a little. “Also, I am interested in this 'Hickory Farms'.” He looks across the mall at the store next to the Dress Barn. “Hickory is a wood, is it not? And yet the merchant seems to deal in foodstuffs.”

“Well, let’s see what they have.” Steve looks all-business. He pulls a list out of his pocket and Bruce sees him looking at it. Thor meanwhile, looks back at Loki, then across at the Hickory Farms store, then back another time at his brother. “Are you sure you will be all right?” Loki's impatient snort does not seem to convince him, but when Steve heads across the mall, he follows. Up ahead, Bruce sees the guy outside the store lunge at them with a tray of free samples.

“They're going to get eaten alive here,” Tony says, and he nods.

“Eaten _alive_?” From behind them, Loki's voice. “Do tell me you mean that literally?”

Bruce doesn't even turn around. “You know he doesn't. And you know if you get Tony started we're never going to get out of here. Let's just find the Barnes & Noble and get going.”

“I thought this trip was supposed to be about having fun?”

Tony helps him out. “It's supposed to be about _shopping_. Shopping and fun are practically opposites.” He looks at Bruce. “Do you have a list?” 

“Of course.” They're moving now. The bookstore is down practically at the other end of the mall, but at least it's on the first floor. Finding a store is bad enough, but when you have to find an elevator first... Or an escalator... – Just in passing, Bruce pictures Loki on an escalator. He'd probably like it so much he'd make all the stairs in the building move. He snerks, then realizes he's acting just like Tony. “You guys are starting to rub off on me,” he says, and the other two stare.

“Far be it from me to miss a perfectly good opportunity to _rub_ someone...” Tony's voice dies away as he catches sight of the Victoria's Secret up ahead and is captivated (of course) by a model in red lace. “What do you think, Loki? Shall I buy Luca one of those?”

“Why bother? I can conjure a better one. Would you like me to show you?” 

“Oh yes!” Before Bruce can turn around and clobber him, Tony changes his horny laugh into a cough. “But you'd better not do it now with the whole shopping mall watching.”

“I'd better not do it at all,” he hears Loki's snide voice saying. “Your friend the Captain would not like it. – Never did I expect to see Tony of the Starks, being led around with his...”

“It's called being in a relationship.” Tony's voice, serious for once. “You should try it. Thor's willing, and I bet I could stay faithful longer than you could.”

“Thor is deluded.” Loki's voice thins. He sounds almost sad. “He would have me close to him on Asgard, and thinks this a means of doing it.”

“Yeah, I think you're the one deluded.” Tony picks up his pace so Loki has to walk faster and the three of them are side-by-side. He points at a pair of spangly platform shoes outside Payless. “How about those, ah _Luca_?”

A snort from Loki. “Your mortal women love torturing themselves.”

“You know what would be fun,” Tony says. “How about getting shoes for the Other Guy. – Bruce, it's got to be murder on your feet when he fights barefoot.”

It's just Tony's way. He's never happy but what he's poking at somebody. Bruce lets it roll right off in the manner it's intended. “Yeah, and when I change back they're gone. Want to pay huge prices for something we'll only use on one mission Tony, go ahead. It's your money.” 

Up ahead, finally, he sees the B&N. Loki sees it too. “Books!” He starts walking faster.

Tony, picking up the pace to catch up: “I'll show you around.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” comes the cool response. “You will want to read some bright-colored mortal magazine, or an arcane book about your _tech_ , that I have never studied. I will ask assistance from the merchant himself.”

“Or I could help you.” Bruce thinks about the long lines he always sees at the Customer Assistance desk. If he can just get Loki settled with something interesting, there's some presents he can get while he's here. “Tony, I'm going to get some stuff. I'll text when I'm done.”

“Me too.” Inside the store, Tony's already scanning the aisles. “I'm thinking music for Thor... – He ever heard of Wagner, Loki?”

“I suggest food. Thor does not even listen to Aesir music, and “The Ride of the Valkyries” is highly overrated.” Loki smiles. “You might purchase something by Jonathan Coltrane. Then at least one of us will enjoy it.”

“Nice try. I already know what I'm getting you.” Tony points. “I'll just be in the cafe with one of my 'bright-colored mortal magazines'. You guys text me when you're done.”

_______________________

Thor leaves Hickory Farms with the hugest box in the store under his arm. The girl behind the counter was very excited to find out she was serving a real live Avenger. And her manager was very excited by the real life gold Thor paid with. Steve's not so sure Tony's going to want a Gourmet Smoky Assortment, but he doesn't say anything, unable to spoil the big guy's happiness.

“It has turkey sausage and beef sausage,” he says as they go back out into the mall. “A 'turkey' is a Midgardian bird, close to the size of a boar, if I understood the merchant's words aright. Most assuredly I will have to bring the Warriors Three here, so we may hunt and roast one of these 'turkeys'.”

“You buy them from stores.” Steve looks around. They're in the middle of the mall right now and, according to the map at the entrance, they need to go to the right, and all the way to the end, to get to the bookstore. Tony and the others are going there right now, so they probably want to wait, and do the rest of their shopping first. It's a little disturbing. What was so wrong with the old way, where the stores were out on the street, and you could grab a subway home when you got tired of shopping?

“Do you know what you want to get, Thor?”

“I do not.” Unlike himself, Thor looks nothing but happy. “In truth, I cannot know, Friend Stephen, for your Midgardian merchants are too different from those in Asgard. At home, we choose what gift we would like to give in advance, and then we find a craftsman to make it. Here, one must look at everything that is available.” He points to the right. “Our friends asked that we not follow them that way, did they not?”

A nod from Steve. Is Thor suggesting that they go into every store in the whole mall?

“Then we will go the other way.” Thor leads off and enters the store right to the left of Hickory Farms.

It actually works better than you might think. The next store is called Bath and Body Works. Thor finds a box of scented things that he says will be perfect for Jane Foster. At the back, he also finds bubble bath that's supposed to relieve stress, and he looks delighted. “In truth, I had not expected to find magic potions here in Midgard.” He grabs their hugest bottle. “This will be perfect for Friend Bruce, when he would keep the Hulk from appearing.”

They skip the video game store after that. Neither of them has a clue about video games. And besides, doesn't Tony let the others use all his games when they want to anyway? After that, there are three ladies clothing stores, a shoe store, and a place that sells “beauty supplies”.

Thor looks at Steve, confused. “Potions to make a woman beautiful?”

Steve's a little confused himself. “Shampoo,” he says. “...I think. I don't know what the other stuff is.”

Way down at the end of the mall, they find what Steve's looking for. The department store is ritzy looking, and back at the back in the jewelry section he finds a good, American made watch, at a price he can afford. They won't engrave it, but they give him the name of somebody that will. Tony's already got about a hundred watches, he knows that, but the message is going to make this one personal.

This time when they leave the store, they're both looking happy, him with his small package, and Thor with bags and boxes hanging all over him. Steve's not actually sure Clint will like the “Bless this Nest” sign Thor found at Country Corners, – And he wasted a lot of breath advising _against_ the black leather girdle-thing for Natasha, but try talking Thor out of anything. ...Also, the replacement taser for Darcy Lewis is just asking for trouble. – but it's sure going to make the unwrapping interesting on Christmas morning. Thor's still ready to go. He turns around headed up the other side, just as eager to look in all these other stores as he was to look in the first batch of them. Steve checks his phone. It's got to be about time to stop for lunch, doesn't it?

_______________________

“Your reptile section is sadly lacking.” Bruce finds Loki by the sound of his voice. And the three Customer Service representatives who are all trying to help him. “Serpents...” He gestures. “Lizards... – _Small_ serpents and lizards. Where are the books on keeping large reptiles, bilgesnipes say, for combat practice?”

“Combat?” The girl with the glasses looks confused. “Bilgesnipes?”

“Is that a brand of weapon, sir?” The guy with the bald spot tries to act helpful. “The firearms section is two aisles over.”

“Firearms!” Loki snorts. “Weapons for cowards, afraid to fight hand-to-hand.” Suddenly his eyes light up and he grins. He catches Bruce's eye, just a couple seconds before he can escape into one of the other aisles. “Dr. Banner, do you think my brother would appreciate a 'firearm' for Christmas?”

Uh... No. “He fights with Mjolnir.” 

“Of course. You're right.” Loki throws a condescending look at the poor assistants. “I suppose you don't have such a thing as a warhammer-cover in this benighted place?”

They don't. Of course. It's about this time that Tony shows up. He holds up a children's book he's found. “He-Man,” it says, “and the Masters of the Universe.”

“What do you think?” he says. “Thor's long-lost brother?”

Loki, interested, moves close to see the book (and behind him, all the assistants who've been helping him sneak down other aisles and vanish into the store). “Those small garments would offer scant protection in battle. Nor would his hair remain smooth and tidy like that. – Who is the woman who fights with him?”

“She-Ra.” Tony grins. “I knew guys that watched the show just for her.”

“Interesting. Has she got a book as well?”

“I think.” Tony leads him away. 

Bruce hears Loki laugh. “It would be amusing to watch Sif's reaction to this 'She-Ra'.”

The good news is that Loki and Tony haven't wrecked the place yet, he thinks as he follows them toward the Children's Section. The bad news, well, he hasn't been able to get anything off his list yet, and he promised Thor he'd get some suggestions for a present for his brother. All Bruce knows so far is what books Loki _doesn't_ want ...and what books he wants to show to Sif, back in Asgard. He glances at his watch: 11:45. Maybe he can get the two spoiled-est brats in the universe to take a break for lunch? And then maybe he can get Steve to take over watching them for a while afterward? 

“Monsters Inc.? What is that?” He hears Loki's voice a few aisles ahead.

“Pixar.” And Tony's, answering him. “A couple of of monsters rescue a little girl. The animation was groundbreaking for the time.”

“The monsters are the heroes?” Coming closer, Bruce can hear the interest in Loki's voice, maybe more than he can himself. “This ugly blue one and his small green friend?”

“We human beings aren't all hung up on appearance like you Asgardians. – Well we are, but...”

Bruce ducks back into a nearby aisle and pulls out his Stark-phone. Steve needs good, inexpensive gift-ideas. He can get “Monsters Inc.” for Loki. And Thor can get, well he can get him a book on raising large reptiles for combat-practice ...Or something. 

“Oh really?” Finding Tony and Loki in a store is never going to be a problem. Not with both of them talking _all the time_. “Next time Luca visits, I shall be sure she is 100 pounds heavier.”

“Fat porn. You pervy little...” Or Bruce could look for the mothers and little kids running away with horrified looks on their faces. He clears his throat loudly, hurrying over.

“Loki, Tony, have either of you found _anything_ yet?”

“A few things. I'll order off the website when we get home. I hate carrying bags.” Tony comes over to Bruce. “Loki found a book.”

It's huge and heavy-looking. “Comparative Mythology,” it says on the front.

“Midgardians have had many names for me, have they not?” Loki sounds very pleased. “Coyote, I like that one. What is a 'coyote'?”

“Small, scrawny thing that looks like a dog. – Really clever and good at surviving,” Tony adds hurriedly as Loki frowns.

“Hmmm.” Loki eyes the book. “I shall have to research what else they called me.”

“Guys, you ready for lunch yet? Maybe after we check out?” Bruce saw a Five Guys on the Mall Directory. He pictures relaxing with a burger and a plate of fries, then handing off the two Chaos Brothers into Steve's care so he can do his shopping.

“Fine, great, I'm hungry.” Tony puts up a hand. “Just one stop on the way. I want to get a picture with Santa.”


	5. Burgers, Fries, and Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation turns emotional ...briefly, while the shoppers refresh themselves with some food.

“This tavern...” -- Thor's heading through the mall toward lunch with the same eagerness he showed shopping. Steve for his part, trails behind. Would a park be too much to ask? Or a soda fountain? But oh no, nothing can be so simple in the Twenty-First Century. Everything's got to be loud, and glitzy, and too-close-together. -- “It has five hosts?”

“It's called Five Guys.” Steve's carrying the overflow of Thor's shopping bags now. He's wishing the super-soldier serum had given him some extra hands. “That's the _name_. And we call them 'restaurants' here, Thor.” Maybe he's getting a little irritable. That place called Hot Topic where Thor bought all the t-shirts was even louder than the rest of the mall.

“Of course! – So this 'restaurant' has only one host?” Who can say? Back in the 40's, restaurants _had_ hosts. Steve remembers Mama Finkelstein, working the register at the deli on the corner. He remembers the druggist – What was his name? Leary? – fixing his hot roast beef sandwich in between filling prescriptions. Nowadays everything's impersonal, and if you try to find the owner of a business, he's in the Bahamas or something. Or in Japan.... “I will be delighted to taste the fare at this 'Five Guys'!” Thor's happy voice recalls Steve to the present. 

The restaurant's located by one of the main entrances in the middle of the mall. If he's oriented correctly, it should be right behind the big red Santa's Workshop, that's full of mom's taking pictures of their babies, this early on a weekday. Santas and Workshops are one thing that doesn't change at least. Steve has about a minute for fond thoughts about visiting the Santa at Gimbels. He wonders whether this one gives the kids those crappy little candy canes that take about a minute to eat, after you get them out of all the packaging. Then he hears the voices.

“Where I come from, there are real elves. They are powerful beings of dark magic, formidable indeed, in a negotiation.” A snort …a familiar snort. “These green-clad men are a travesty.”

Steve comes around the corner to see Loki ( _of course_ ). He's with Tony and Bruce, near the front of the line to see Santa.

Bruce looks harried. He's got one little bag hanging from his wrist. – Is that all the shopping he's been able to do so far? Naturally. He was probably playing babysitter the whole time. “Okay, _which_ of you's getting the picture taken?”

“I still say Hulk...” A glare from Bruce makes Tony's words trail away. “Okay, sorry, sorry, sorry. Not right now. I get it. Maybe I was a ...leetle distracted in the store.”

“You weren't the only one.” Bruce throws a look Loki's way.

“A 'photograph' is a sort of portrait.” Loki's voice again, very clear and carrying. All the moms in line with their kids turn around and stare. “We will do a portrait of Luca, and she will wear one of those tiny...” 

Tony puts his hand on his arm. “Time to be good, Loki. We're going to behave ourselves for Bruce and get our pictures taken like good boys. – It's a tradition here to give a picture of yourself with Santa to your sweetheart, did you know that?”

It is? Something more he doesn't know about the Twenty-First Century? 

“You are going to give the Captain a picture. And I am going to give mine to whom?” Loki's lips curl upward. “I could make quite a good one for you of Luca.” He raises his hand. Thor, over in their vantage point on the other side of the walkway, tenses.

“My brother would make a mockery of this Midgardian tradition.”

“So would Tony.” Steve motions him back a little, out of plain sight from the Workshop. “One thing I've learned is that making a mockery of things _is_ the tradition in this world.”

Across the mall, Tony moves to the front of the line. Steve hears oohing and ahhing. “Are you Tony Stark?” “Oh Mr. Stark, I'm a huge fan.” “That party with the naked babes and the watermelon...” From the so-called “elves” who are staffing the booth. They're more of a mockery of Santa than whatever Loki could think of to do. 

Steve watches Tony take a seat on a red plush lap. He sees him pull another pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, settle them where the Santa-glasses used to be, then make rabbit-ears behind the red-and-white hat. “One more thing.” Tony waves over the only female in the booth.” He pulls her down into the picture. “Show some leg.” Yeah, this is going to be a gift Steve treasures forever. ...Okay, maybe it will be. It'll remind him of Tony Stark, that's for sure. 

Coming off Santa's lap, Tony notices him and Thor. He comes over. “Get Thor out of here. Loki's balky enough about this already.” He motions toward the sign that reads Five Guys. “You guys go ahead and get us a table. Take Bruce. He might be ...just a little bit tense right now.”

“You think?” Steve rescues Bruce, who's having some kind of heated argument with Loki, and looking more stressed by the moment. He brings him over, looking more than a little frown-y and Hulk-like.

“The Prima Donna of Asgard wants you,” he grates at Tony. “This was your idea, you make it work.”

“I swear it will be awesome. I can totally make Loki do this. You guys go ahead and get a table, okay? Get your drinks, oh, and order an extra-large Cajun Fries to share. I'll have Loki there in time to order the food.”

Bruce's face relaxes just in the time it takes them to leave Santa's Workshop and walk around the corner to the restaurant. He looks from Thor to Steve, then grins. “You two didn't get much shopping done, did you?”

“Most assuredly, Friend Bruce...” Thor's starting to catch on to Earth-humor. It takes him about two beats, then he laughs. “Nay, Friend Bruce.” He lifts the bags, waving them a little. “Scarce any at all. And you?”

“I kept your brother and Tony from destroying the place.” Bruce's laugh sounds a little forced. “I can do my shopping online.”

Five Guys has the delicious smell of a real old-fashioned burger joint. Just walking inside is like walking back into the past, and Steve feels himself relax a little too. Like in the old days, there's nobody at the door taking names and telling them where they can sit. They go on in, they take the seat they want, and after a while a girl in a white uniform comes to give them their menus. 

“Listen, Bruce, I'll take Loki and Tony after lunch.” Steve hurries to give some encouragement to his stressed-out friend, while the girl brings them their milkshakes and Cajun Fries.

“I will go as well.” Thor's face clouds a little. “I was the one who wished to bring my brother here.”

“I'm not saying it wasn't a good idea.” Bruce still looks a little twitchy. He's so calm all the time, it's hard to remember, but the Hulk's always there, isn't he? He's just under the surface, ready to react when there's too much noise or chaos. And if there's one thing Tony and Loki are good at, it's noise and chaos. Steve starts feeling guilty about leaving him to deal with them all morning.

The girl comes with their order and Bruce grabs a Cajun Fry and chews. “No seriously,” he says. “It's okay. Give me some time after lunch to do my shopping and I'm fine.” He takes a drink of his milkshake. “Maybe I can go with Thor. He looks like he's found all the best stores in the mall.”

Their waitress returns right as Tony and Loki arrive. Tony's eyes stay on her a beat longer than Steve really likes. “What's good here?” 

Standard answer they always give: “All our food's good.”

“Then bring us some of everything.” Tony smiles into her eyes in a way Steve really doesn't like, then plops down in the booth next to him. “Thor'll eat it,” he says. “Am I right, guys?”

A little privacy would be nice about now. Steve's got some choice words for somebody who's been swearing up and down that he really wants to behave himself, and cooperate, but who seems to have forgotten every word of it as soon as they got here. For a change though, Tony's not the spoiled-est brat at the table. Loki sits down like he's doing the seat a favor, and eyes the Cajun Fries with a critical eye.

“More mortal food that does not resemble anything in nature.”

“Fries.” Tony takes three. “Spicy. Try dipping 'em in your milkshake.”

Bruce, who's all calmed down again by now, goggles. “That's disgusting.”

Tony dips. His fry comes up with a chunk of Reeses Cup on it (candy-swirled milkshakes are one of the better innovations of the Twenty-First Century). “Best part's when you get one of the candy pieces. Um, num, num.” He shoves it in and grins with his mouth full.

“What are you, like twelve?”

Thor dips a fry. He tastes it, then immediately takes a handful and dips them all. “Brother, you must try this. The sweetness soothes the burn.”

“A ringing endorsement.” 

It's not just Bruce that's getting irritated with the two Spoiled-Brats-From-Hell, Steve realizes suddenly. He can just about take Tony flirting with everyone he sees and eating like he hasn't been taught table manners in his life, but in combination with Loki? Who made so much noise about how all he wanted was to be an Avenger and come back to Midgard, but now that he's here, can't seem to find anything good to say about it?

He stands. “I think we need two booths.”

“Two?” Tony catches Steve's eye and shuts up fast. “Two booths, yeah. All the Earth-people at one table and all the Asgardians at the other. I'll get the server...” A flirty grin starts, then turns into a cough as Steve catches his eye again. “Ah that is to say, I'll ask her to bring our food to the other table.”

He's a lot more subdued once they're sitting separately. “Listen Steve, I'm sorry. Pepper's always on me about what a dick I am. I... er...” His voice dies away as he realizes he's just mentioned his ex-girlfriend. “Um, I understand why she ended up with Happy instead of me,” he says. “That's all I was saying.”

“Loki's not much better.” Their food comes, and Bruce takes a bite of his burger. 

“Loki's a bad influence...” Tony stops himself again. “...I mean I'm an adult and I shouldn't make excuses about my behavior.” He looks over at Steve, and there's appeal in those blue eyes of his.

“You both act like you're about ten.” What it is with Tony that makes him get away with this stuff? Steve couldn't have said if you'd paid him, but when his hand finds Steve's under the table, he lets him take it (even though it makes eating his burger awfully difficult). “There's a reason ten-year-olds don't date.”

“Yeah, curfews.” Tony squeezes his under the table. “...And the whole immaturity thing too of course.”

“I didn't sign on to be your mother, Tony.” Steve's losing burger patties and pieces of lettuce all over his basket. He unlooses his hand so he can eat properly. “And I'm not going to be a drill sargent. If you want that, go choose yourself another guy.”

“You're going to force me to grow up.” Tony takes a bite of his burger. “Maybe if I'm lucky I won't end up old and lonely with nobody to fu...” – Steve's elbow stops him. – “...Er, nobody in my life except women who want my money.”

“Maybe.” Steve eats for a minute in peace. Then he looks at Bruce. “You said you still wanted to buy some things?”

“Everything on my list. Except I got something for Loki while he and Tony were in the Children's Section.” He pulls a CD out of his bag.

“Miles Davis.” Tony looks over at the other table. “Who's that for?”

“Loki.” Bruce puts it back into the bag. “Didn't you hear him mention Coltrane back in the bookstore? Dr. Selvig's big on jazz. I'm guessing he played it when he was with Loki. -- But yeah, we were saying: I still need to do some shopping. Maybe if I go with you guys, and we leave Thor and Loki by themselves?”

...And then they get a call from Mall Security when Loki gets out of hand and Thor brings out Mjolnir. “I'll go with them,” Steve offers. “It was kind of fun going to every single store with Thor before. – Bruce, you okay going with Tony?”

_______________________

“The Captain is short-tempered today.” Loki lifts the top bun on his hamburger and eyes what is underneath. “We came here to amuse ourselves, was that not the intention?”

Thor's already looked at his burger. Crisp leaves of lettuce, a slice of juicy Midgardian tomato, a piece of cheese, melted into the surface of the meat: And the aroma were not sufficient, the sight is enough to make his tastebuds clamor. His brother's mood though, is spoiling his appetite.

“Chaos is not enjoyment.”

Loki avoids his gaze. “I am the God of Chaos. Brother, had you forgotten?” He doesn't look happy. Looking at him, Thor sees dark circles under his green eyes, and a line drawn tight between his brows. 

“Brother, what troubles you?” Thor reaches across the table and takes his hand.

When Loki does not pull away, he counts that as a victory. Loki does not look at him though. “Naught troubles me. I attempt merely, to enjoy the company of our Midgardian friends.”

“By awakening dissension between Friend Stephen and Friend Tony?”

Now Loki turns his way. His green eyes flare. “This connection between them: It was not there when we were here before.”

“Love.” It's a beautiful word. Thor tastes it as he says it. He tries to hold back the longing. He has found whom he would love, but if Loki will not love him back...

His brother snorts. “There is no excitement in _love_. Stark will be bored in a week.”

Thor bites his lip. He forgets that his brother had begun a connection with Tony on their last visit here. Is his heart involved? Is this mayhap, the reason he pulled away from Thor's embrace when they were in Asgard? “I am not good with words.” He looks down at his plate, at the hamburger, still barely touched. It will be too cold to eat soon, and he will miss savoring this Midgardian delicacy. “Where you see excitement, I see only loneliness.”

Their eyes hold. For just a moment Thor thinks he sees something, an answering response ...A longing maybe. Then it is gone. Loki smiles coolly. “Mortals are mayflies. Long before he can feel regret at his choice, Stark will be gone.”

Tony! Gone! How can Loki speak of it so casually? The reaction must show on his face, because his brother laughs shortly. “Pray tell me you had not forgotten, brother? There are hazards in giving one's heart to a mortal.” Loki's green eyes go distant. His face softens, in an expression that looks almost sad. “There are hazards in giving one's heart at all. I learned that lesson when I trusted Fa... – Odin..”

Is this why he spurned him then? Thor feels his heart lift. “I am not All-Father.”

“You might as well be.” Loki pulls his hand free. He picks up his own burger and takes a bite, washing it down with the melted-looking contents of his milkshake. “You are heir-designate. Your life belongs to All-Father and to the Throne of Asgard. Think well, brother: And I did give you my _love_ , what then? Imagine bringing a Frost Giant's spawn with you when you return to be crowned King. Imagine placing him on the throne next to you, telling your subjects that they must submit as to yourself. Submit!” Loki laughs again, a light laugh, but with an edge of something like pain to it. “As _your friends_ submitted so willingly when I was King myself.”

King? It is the same old delusional talk. Loki held the throne but briefly, while Thor was banished, and Father was in the Odin-Sleep. None would have taken that for permanent authority and yet, so strong is Loki's craving for the crown that apparently he did. He has spoken with longing of his time on the throne before. What will it take to make him forget it, and accept his own lot in life?

“You were never King, brother.” Thor hears the click of his brother's teeth coming together in anger, but he continues. This has to be said. “Nor did you need to be. You talk about submitting, and who's place is what in the hierarchy… Don't you see, none speaks of that but you. None cares but you.” He reaches across the table, catching and trapping Loki's hand between both of his. “I give you all my love, brother not as heir, not as King-to-be, but as Thor of Asgard. Why can't that be enough for you?”

Loki's hand is warm in his. For a moment their gazes hold. Thor's looking into the illimitable depths of Loki's green eyes and he thinks he sees longing there, a craving for something that, mayhap, he can give. Then Loki pulls away. “So _pretty_ if your Cloud Cuckoo-Land were real.” He picks up his burger and bites, the movement savage.

Thor watches him without moving. _It is real,_ the words tremble, but he does not speak them. _It could be real._ Always before, he has made his own reality through the strength of his arms and the sheer force of his will. Loki lies when he says that is impossible this time. He lies to Thor, and he lies to himself... “You don't want it enough,” he says finally. “If you did, we could create it together.”

Loki's eyes meet his again. Once again, Thor sees the longing there. Then it disappears and he's looking into flat opacity. “And you call me delusional! Poor Thor, always hurrying from one inappropriate entanglement to another. Falling in love with a mortal was not good enough for you; you had to set your sights on a Frost Giant of all things. Best hurry back to Asgard and seek a proper consort. Sif fancies herself a warrior, but she grows older. She must marry soon.”

What can he say to that? What can he do? For a moment, a brief moment, Thor felt that he was seeing the true Loki. Now the Liesmith is back, and who can tell his real feelings. He folds his hands under the table, wishing it didn't feel like they should be clasped about Loki's own cool hand. This is the end, there is nothing more to say. Soon they will leave the restaurant, and Loki will still be as distant from him as ever. 

“Your food is untouched.” The comment takes him by surprise. Thor follows his brother's gaze: It is as he said, his burger and fries remain uneaten. “No doubt it is cold now.” Loki's voice is grumpy. “You should not have spent so much time on foolishness.” He leans away from the table, waving toward Tony, sitting in the next booth. “My brother requires fresh food.”

“No.” Somehow the protective gesture pleases Thor. Is it a random comment, or genuine concern, he does not know, but he chooses to think it the latter. “This food will suffice.” He smiles across the table. “Have you ever known me to be particular about my victuals?”

“Thor the Thunderer, indiscriminate as always.” Loki smiles back. It is his same liar's smile, but there is something, a hint of an emotion Thor cannot name, in his eyes.


	6. Loki's Qualms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late in the evening after the shopping trip, Bruce shares some advice with Loki.

The penthouse is dim, lit by the sparkling lights of the Midgardian Christmas tree, and the glow of the movie playing on the television set. His comrades are but shadows: Loki sees Tony and Steve, sitting together at the end of the sofa. Bruce is at the other end, drinking something out of a mug. Thor sits nearest the doorway. He looks up as Loki enters.

“Brother, are you joining us?” His voice is happy, troublingly happy.

“Of course not.” Loki keeps his own voice cool. “After the tiring day you put me through, Thunderer? I want only rest and privacy.”

He looks at the quiet scene in the living room. Steve and Tony rest comfortably together, Tony, quieted for once, and Steve, holding forth at intervals about the movie on the television. “'Bastards'? What's the point of the bad language? – And in the title! – And why so much violence? And why make it glamorous like that? Real violence isn't that way.”

Tony's mumble, sounding lazy and comfortable: “It's Tarantino, what do you expect?”

Unbidden, Loki's gaze turns to his brother sitting near the door. There's a big spot open on the sofa next to him. He pictures himself sitting there, Thor's arm a comforting weight on his own shoulder. ...Thor's arm, yes. Thor's always ready to hold him, to keep him where he wants him to be. And where does Loki get a say in this? He swallows, and turns away from the tempting view.

In the kitchen, there is food. There is endless food, bewildering amounts of food. Christmas in Midgard is, apparently, a holiday devoted to eating. Loki opens the refrigerator. He sorts through the boxes, the covered trays of delicacies, the wrapped, heavy items called “fruitcakes”. Periodically his gaze moves again toward the living room.

“You hungry, Loki?” He looks up to see Bruce at the sink, refilling his mug.

“Your Midgardian food fascinates me.” He sets a tray filled with small vegetables on the counter.

“I can imagine.” Loki hears the microwave open and shut. He hears the whirr, as it begins the process of heating water for Bruce's tea. “If I had a chance to go to another planet...” Bruce opens the box of teabags on the counter. “Well for one thing, I'd want to have my microscope with me so I could look at tissue samples.” He turns. “You know I always wanted to ask you: What do the Chitauri eat?”

Loki picks through the vegetables on the tray. He eyes the viscous “dips” that are intended to be served with them. Finally, he chooses a pea pod, and slides it open to survey the round, sweet peas inside. “You wouldn't like it.” He finds himself glancing toward the living room again and, with an effort of will, keeps his gaze pointed toward Bruce. “The food Thanos gives them is mere fuel. With their will and their consciousnesses subsumed to his...” His voice trails off and he glances again toward the living room.

With a swift movement, he shoves the pea pod into his mouth. “The Jotnar on the other hand: Their food is wild beasts, slaughtered and eaten raw, and ice funguses.”

“Interesting” The microwave pings and Bruce takes his cup out. He turns, with the tag from his teabag hanging over his hand, and the sweet smell of spices rising gently as his tea steeps. “And Asgardians eat a lot of meat, you and Thor have said so. A sort of a medieval Earth-diet. – You know no one's going to bite you if you come out in the living room.”

Loki picks up a carrot. – A “baby” carrot. “What makes these carrots babies?” He dunks it at random into one of the “dips”.

Bruce stops his hand. “That's Steve's onion dip. You won't want that. Nobody likes it but him. Here...” He takes another carrot and dips. “This is hummus. Trust me, it's better.” He looks over toward the sofas, where Thor's head is a blond blur in the light of the television. “It's him, isn't it? He's why you've been acting so weird since you got back.”

“Congratulations on your discernment of the obvious.” Loki takes a bite of the carrot. The “hummus” is a complex flavor, spicy and oily, and salty in a way that complements the carrot's sweetness.

“Because he loves you and you don't love him?” Bruce’s voice sounds like it's coming from inside his mug, he's trying so hard to keep his eyes off Loki's. He cradles the cup in his hands and stares into the steam. “It's obvious he loves you. A lot.”

Loki picks up a broccoli. He pulls at the buds, avoiding Bruce's eyes as well. “My brother loves a challenge. When he was exiled here, he wooed Dr. Foster. The Bifrost has been restored. He could visit her and he chose to. Why is he here with me instead?”

“Hey, guys!” From the living room, Tony's voice: “If you're going to be in the kitchen all night, will you bring me some eggnog?”

Steve's voice follows. “You don't need any more 'eggnog', Tony. – I'll have some coffee though, if you're making it, guys.”

“Coffee? We are his servants?” The request is irritating far beyond justification. He is tense, Loki realizes, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself.

“He'd do it for me.” Bruce fills another mug and puts it in the microwave. “Instant okay, Steve?” he calls out into the living room.

Steve's answer, “yeah,” is covered by the whirr of the microwave.

Bruce looks back at Loki. “I'm guessing that was a rhetorical question you asked. I get it, you're afraid you're just the Flavor of the Week.” 

“The ...flavor...” Meaning of the Midgardian term is obvious, and yet he quibbles. 

“Like Tony,” Bruce says. “First he's dating Pepper, then he's after Natasha. Now he swears he's going to be faithful to Steve forever. – Is your brother like that though? He strikes me as being pretty faithful. Maybe...”

_Maybe he's had these feelings for a while, and dared not act on them. Maybe learning that Loki was not blood-kin came like a liberation, a chance to do what he would have done before..._ Who said that? Was it Thor? Did his mother say it, back in Asgard?

“There's this girl I used to date.” The change of subject seems like a relief, an escape from sensitive topics. “Her dad's high up in the military brass. After the accident, he was the one who kept trying to track me down. He wanted to experiment on the Other Guy. Betty and I told each other we'd be together. Just as soon as her dad gave up on me.” His voice turns sad. “That was a long time ago. I guess I could go to her now, but it's been so long... And there's still the Other Guy...” For a long moment, he stares into his mug and says nothing. Then the microwave bell pings, and he takes out Steve's water and busies himself adding instant coffee and milk. 

“I'm just saying if you really want something, you've got to take a chance.” He picks up his mug in one hand, Steve's in the other. “Because being alone all your life really sucks. So maybe it won't work out between you and Thor, so what? You won't know unless you try. You kind of complete each other, Loki. You're all the things he isn't. Like Steve and Tony.”

“I think not.” Loki watches Bruce go back into the living room. His words linger in his mind. Completion... Cleverness and sincerity, order and chaos.. Unbidden, Frigga's words come into his mind: _On Vanaheim, we view love as a gift._

After he has returned the vegetable tray to the refrigerator, Loki goes into the living room. He takes a seat at the other end of Thor's sofa. He is there to see the movie only, he tells himself.

“Inglourious Basterds, what is that?”

“War movie,” Tony says. “Lot of gore. I'm letting Steve hide his head on my shoulder during the scary parts. – Ow! Steve, you hit too hard.”

“I'm glad you came in, brother.” Thor reaches for his hand. Loki lets him take it. It is a small physical contact only. It promises nothing he is not willing to give.


	7. The Charity Ball for the Stark Fund

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper finally finds somebody who cooperates while she's going around the room making nice to all the rich people. Bruce finds out there's more to do on the weekends than hole up in a lab and do experiments.

Tony's borrowed tuxedo fits all right, but Bruce doesn't dare get comfortable, knowing how many pins it took to make it fit.

“You need to start working out.” Tony at his side, as they take the elevator up to the penthouse in... What was the name of this hotel again? “Just saying, the one I loaned the Cap had to be let out.”

“You better hope he doesn't _Hulk_ out.” Steve, on the other side. If you listen, you can hear the music from the party. They must be almost there. “All it's going to take is him getting mad, and you're out a suit.”

“D&G. Last year's. You think I'm going to risk my Armani?”

It sucks even having to be at this party. These society people don't want to get to know him, or any of them. They just want to see the Thrill-of-the-Week, and right now, that's the guys that just saved Washington DC. Serve them right if he Hulked out right in this cramped little elevator... But that's a terrible way of looking at things; didn't Pepper send him that list of all the good things the Stark Scholarship Fund does? 

At the back of the elevator, Loki stands quiet and smug, in a suit he conjured himself (black with accents of green). Next to him, Thor's dressed Asgardian-style. His determined smile says here's one member of the team at least, who's going to have a good time no matter what. Maybe being the son of a King, he's used to events like this.

The elevator door pings open, and Pepper's right there to greet them. She knows all the big donors who came tonight, and she wants them to meet every one. Bruce loses track of how many fat guys in suits and skinny ladies with facelifts he has to be nice to. After a while, Loki sneaks off. Then Thor leaves to go find him. Then it's bye-bye Tony and Steve, and Bruce finds himself alone with Pepper and still with more people to greet.

Around the room they go together, and around, and around. Then just when he thinks he's home free, Pepper touches his arm and indicates a lady in a sparkly dress. “USC doesn't have the best science schools in the world, but the Annenbergs are an SC family. And they've been very generous. Matching funds. – Remember, it's _Ms._ Annenberg. She took her maiden name after the divorce.”

“I can't imagine why Tony would complain about having to do this.” He just mumbles it, but Pepper's got sharp ears.

“Actually, Steve's been good for him. He used be drunk before I could get him halfway around the room.”

“He only got a quarter of the way this time.” 

“At least he brought you guys.” Pepper nudges him. “Good evening, Ms. Annenberg.”

“Wallis, dear.” The hand that touches Bruce's feels tight and trim. Can they do hand-lifts, he wonders? “Is this one of the Avengers I've heard so much about?”

“Pleased to meet you.” Bruce tells himself he's _not_ being stared at by every eye in the room. It's just this one lady. The one who looks like a mummy with a good hairdresser. “I’m Bruce Banner.”

“Ah, Dr. Banner.” Big-bright smile with lots and lots of whitened teeth. “If you're ever looking to relocate to California, USC School of Medicine could use somebody with your expertise. I could pull some strings.”

She looks like that's what's holding her face up, is strings. Quickly, Bruce pushes the uncharitable thought away. If just one smart kid gets to go to school because of this, it's all going to be worth it. 

“Bruce likes _donating_ his services.” It's got to be Tony, who's trained Pepper to run interference like this. Well, he's not going to complain if she's ready to talk to Mrs. Annenberg instead of him. – Excuse me. _Ms._ Annenberg. – “Maybe you've heard about his work in India?”

“Of course.” The blank smile under the old-lady hair says she hasn't heard of any such thing. “You're a veritable Mother Teresa, Dr. Banner.”

“Not quite.” Inside, he can hear the Other Guy grumbling. _Shut up,_ Bruce tells him. _Some nice kid's going to get a good USC education out of this. Maybe he'll discover how to reverse the effects of gamma radiation for me._ “I just do my best.” He gives Pepper's donor-lady a nice smile. “Like you.”

“Well if you ever change your mind...” Blah, blah, blah... “ _Very_ nice meeting you.” Yadda, yadda, yadda.

“And the same to you.” Smile, and turn.

And... “You were great, Bruce.” Pepper gives him a grin. “You've doubled what we're going to take in tonight.” Short laugh. “If Tony had your manners, we could double it again...”

“But then he wouldn't be Tony Stark, would he?”

Tony's Personal Assistant is pretty fun to talk to. She's not bad on the eyes either. It occurs to Bruce to wonder: Is she dating someone right now? All the talk about relationships around the penthouse lately must be what put it in his mind.

He looks over at the open bar, then around at the roomful of big-wigs. “Is this a work-night for you, or do you get to relax?”

Pepper smiles. “We just finished my work. You want to get a drink?”

The lady's is a martini, ice-cold and double-olives. His is the nonalcoholic beer he always gets. There's some tables over to the side where nobody's sitting yet that are quiet and good for talking.

“Tony always brags about how good you are,” Bruce says, which is just the truth. “What do you do when you're not doing all his work for him?”

Pepper wets her finger and runs it around the top of her glass. “Congratulations, Dr. Banner. You just managed to pay more attention to my private life than Tony's done the entire time I've known him.” She takes a drink. “This weekend, I'm going to the ballet. It's not too late to get tickets if you want to come.”

A ballet? Bruce finds himself really looking at Pepper: She's elegant, she's classy. She could practically be a ballet dancer herself. A lock of her red hair falls loose and he watches her brush it back. Then he realizes he's staring. 

“What kind of ballet?” he asks to cover the awkwardness.

She smiles. No awkwardness here. “The Swan Lake. Do you enjoy the ballet, Dr. Banner?” 

“Bruce.” Pepper's eyes are blue. And they tilt up just a little bit at the corners when she smiles. Reflexively, he looks inside himself: The Other Guy is quiet. Maybe he likes girls. Only Pepper's no a girl, she's a full-grown lady, and right now she's waiting for his answer.

“I can never figure out the story in a ballet.” He blurts out the truth without thinking.

Pepper laughs. “Is that a no? Am I being turned down?” She’s not mocking him, she’s not teasing. It sounds like she's ...flirting… Either that or maybe he's way more out of touch with women than he thought. “I'll tell you the story while we watch.” She looks down at her martini, then she looks up into his eyes, and now he knows she's definitely flirting.

“You'd really go with me?”

She smiles into his eyes. “Call it an educational trip. Everyone needs to learn about ballet sometime.” 

Bruce smiles back. It feels good. “I will be delighted to go with you to the ballet, Ms. Potts.”

“Pepper, please. It'll be an education for both of us.” She looks down. “I forget what it's like to be with a man who actually notices me.”

Her voice is low. Did she say it for him, or was she thinking out loud? Bruce looks around at the room, not sure what to say. 

“There's Loki.” It covers the uncomfortable moment, if nothing else. He points to the bar, where the dark-haired demigod is ordering a drink with Thor at his side. “And Thor.”

Pepper looks over at them. “Speaking of weird relationships?” She takes a drink of her martini. “The good brother and the bad brother. Only they're not really brothers. Loki's adopted, right? I think that's what Tony told me?”

Bruce nods.

“And Thor's in love with him?” – He nods again. – “I don't get that. Didn't Loki try to kill him?”

“A couple of times. I don't think you can kill Asgardians. Look:” He motions.

At the bar, Loki turns Thor's way. He sips from a glass that looks like straight bourbon, – Apparently Tony's made a convert with his “eggnog”. – and looks up at his brother with a friendlier-than-usual expression on his face.

“He doesn't look like he's trying to kill him right now.”

Thor's got a mug of beer. How he got a mug of beer like that, at this fancy gathering is a good question. It's a big frosty tankard-looking mug, and he looks like he's ready to toast his ancestors or something, only he got stopped right before he could. He's looking down at his brother, who's leaning against the bar looking up at him. Bruce can't see either of their faces, but he can just make out the soft rise and fall of their conversation. They sound happier to be together than they've sounded since they got here.

Suddenly he thinks of what Loki said the other night in the kitchen: _My brother loves a challenge._ Is Thor chasing after the challenge that is Loki again? Is tonight the night he's going to get lucky? There's not going to be any regrets afterward if he does, Bruce hopes, because a regretful Loki will be Hell to deal with.

“Bruce... – Earth to Bruce!” He looks up and sees Pepper's slim hand on his sleeve. “Where did you go? What's on your mind?”

“I'm just thinking how out-of-character that is.” He gestures toward Loki and Thor at the bar. “Loki doesn't relax around his brother, he just doesn't. I'm wondering how sorry he's going to be later, that he's doing it tonight.”

“You're wondering if he's going to get drunk and do something he'll regret. Sounds like me and Tony.” Pepper finishes her martini. She takes one of the olives out and nibbles it. “Well Tony's a grown man, and Loki's a grown man. They can make their own decisions.” She finishes the olive and drops the stick back into the glass. “What say we enjoy the evening. It's a clear night and the view from the balcony is spectacular. We can worry about cleaning up other people's messes in the morning.”

“It might not be a mess.” He looks back at the bar. Loki's got his hand in Thor's and they're looking at each other. Thor touches Loki's face, and for once, his brother doesn't pull away.

“Yeah.” Pepper snorts. “And Steve might totally reform Tony and he'll never get in trouble again.”

Bruce sees her head turn. He follows her gaze. “Speak of the devil…”

Tony's got a champagne glass in his hand, and Steve at his side. “What are you two doing all by yourselves over here?” He looks from Bruce to Pepper, then back again. Then he looks at Steve. “Am I noticing something?”

“Unlikely.” Pepper's voice is barely audible. “Noticing's never been your strong point.” Bruce sees her shoulders tense. Why does there have to be so many problems between everybody?

“You guys sticking around?” Steve's got a champagne glass too. He says he can't get drunk. Maybe he likes the taste. “We're going to go get dinner.”

“Progress. At least you're telling me before you cut out.” Pepper's voice has that cool, businesslike tone again, but her shoulders are still tense. “Last year you went off with half the waitresses, and I was on the phone for two hours to make sure the buffet got served.”

Tension on top of tension. Bruce is starting to envy Thor and Loki. At least their crisis isn't going to happen until tomorrow.

“Korean food.” Steve hurries along. “Lots of meat. Tony says I'll like it. You guys want to come?”

“No thank you.” Pepper's cool voice again. She looks at Bruce. “Unless you want to go, Dr. Banner?”

The right answer is obvious: “Pepper was just going to show me the view from the balcony.”

His arm around her waist to escort her, he can feel her tension leaving, more of it the further away they get from Steve and Tony. There's something between her and Tony, business resentment, or maybe there was a bad relationship. He's going to have to see if he can get Steve to fill him in. For now though...

“We'll take your advice,” he tells her. “Enjoy the evening, and don't worry about problems until tomorrow.”

The door to the balcony is unlocked. Outside the night glitters with a thousand points of light. In New Mexico, they'd be stars. Here, it's the lights of Broadway, and if he takes his glasses off, it'll all blur into one smear of color. “You ever miss being able to see the stars, Pepper?”

She stands close, as if she's soaking up his warmth in the chilly night air. “I have a place a couple hours north of here. Three acre lot, wilderness in all directions, stars just like when I was growing up in Watertown.” –

He moves closer. It _is_ cold out here. –

“Tony's a handful, so I never used to get up there much, but while he's with Steve I'm hoping that will change.”

 _While_ he's with Steve... “You don't think the relationship will last?”

Pepper's hair brushes his cheek as she shakes her head. “Tony doesn't understand relationships. I don't think he knows how to love anything but those robots of his.” She shrugs. “It's nice while it lasts though. You want to come up and see the cabin some weekend, Bruce?”

First the ballet, now the cabin. “Aren't you moving a little fast, Pepper? I'm not complaining or anything, but...”

“Just a friendly invitation, Bruce.” Pepper turns just a little, and suddenly he's looking into her eyes. There's a challenge in them, and something else that pulls him in. “Unless you want it to be more.”

Does he? Maybe. The Other Guy doesn't seem to mind at any rate, at least not right now. Bruce puts his hands on Pepper's waist. “Maybe that's one more risk I'm willing to take right now.”


	8. At the Mortals' Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is unsure why Loki is willing to go home with him after the party, but he does not question.

The purpose of the charity ball is to raise money for poor children who need an education. It is a confusing concept. In Asgard, there is enough for all, and all share in All-Father's beneficence. Here in Midgard, that is not so. Thor has seen the wide gulf that exists between the rich and the poor. Parties like this do not seem the best way to resolve it, but he would not be so rude as to question another realm's ways. Tony has asked that he be here tonight, to assist in the raising of money. It is an act of comradely decency to agree. – 

Thor is still half surprised that his brother agreed also. Loki has said many times that he would be comrade to the other Avengers, but it goes against his record back in Asgard. He was ever the one to hold back there, the one to question the plans of his fellows. Many and many a time were there words between them when Loki's doubts would have spoiled an adventure. Thor was half ready to argue or command tonight, and yet there was no need. Loki came of his own accord. –

They walk politely with the Lady Pepper. Gentlemen and ladies, members of Midgard's monied aristocracy are eager for a sight of them. His garb pleases them. Loki's manners, polite as he can make them when he will, charm them most mightily. After a while, Loki separates himself. Thor sees him moving toward the bar. A lady gowned in black stops him. There is conversation. It is good conversation he hopes; his brother is behaving in a way that credits Tony and the Lady Pepper. When he moves on to speak to a second person, Thor can't help but follow.

Loki holds a glass of some brown liquid. It looks like the “eggnog” Tony favors, that Bruce says is more properly called “bourbon”. He seems at-ease, and the smile he gives his interlocutor is bland and pleasant.

“...Denizens of the realm of Jotunheimr. They are an ignorant race, that knows no other way to resolve their problems than through violence. Some say they may learn otherwise through patience. I fear not.”

“I saw the news footage.” The lady's smile is eager. “You costumed yourself as one of them, didn't you? And that's how you led them away from Washington? ...Only I couldn't see where you left the shot to put on the costume.”

Thor intuits Loki's reaction. His brother hates to have his Jotun heritage mentioned. He moves forward. “Oh, here's Thor!” The lady's smile brightens still further.

“Protective as usual?” Loki's voice is dry. “Sometime you might let me finish my own conversation, brother.”

“You're brothers, aren't you?” The lady is most delighted to meet not one, but two sons of Asgard. She presses them for stories, then assures them as she leaves, that she will be donating most generously to Tony's scholarship fund.

“A successful conversation!” Thor looks around the room. He spots the Lady Pepper, introducing Bruce to a woman in glittering white. “Still, I regret having left our hostess.”

Loki looks at him over his glass. “Why did you?”

“I was afraid...” Thor swallows. He doesn't want to say it.

Loki finishes his drink. “You were afraid I would shame our friends here.” He goes to the bar, asks for another glass of bourbon. Then he turns back and looks at Thor. “Brother, these are not just your comrades here, they are mine.” He swirls his glass, ice rattling in the brown liquid. “This event is meaningless to me, but it matters to Tony. I came for him. Do you think I would dishonor him?”

Thor asks for a mug of beer. The Midgardian beverage that goes by that name is a weak one, tasting of water and bubbles. It does not satisfy, like the ale Tony purchases him, but it is refreshing in this overheated room. He gives Loki a grin. “From the Lady Pepper's words, I believe Friend Tony has dishonored himself at such gatherings in the past.”

“Tony.” Loki's face relaxes into a smile. He leans against the bar, looking up at Thor. “Our friend who proves that heroes do not have to be perfect. They only have to care about something besides themselves.”

_What do you care about, Loki? ...What – Nay, who?_ Thor bites back the words. The light above the bar warms Loki's pale skin. It softens away the shadows under his eyes, the hollow places below his cheekbones. His green eyes almost glow. “I care about you, Loki.” The words feel forced out.

“And I about you, brother.” Loki's tone is light.

“Call me not brother. Not tonight, pray.” On impulse he reaches out and takes Loki's hand. He is not repulsed. That is a hopeful sign, is it not?

Loki looks at their hands, clasped. He looks up into Thor's eyes. “Your touch is pleasant Thunderer, but it is just a touch.”

Gently, Thor cups Loki's cheek. He feels the sharpness of his cheekbone, under his smooth, smooth skin. “Not 'Thunderer'.”

“And not 'brother'.” Loki's laugh is nervous. “You ask much.”

_I ask only that you love me ...as I love you._ He has not been repulsed yet. Thor allows himself to hope. “I ask only that you let me love you.” He murmurs the words that feel sweet on his tongue, as he looks into Loki's green, green eyes. What is that he sees there, is it acceptance? “Just for tonight. Loki, I pray you.”

Loki looks down into his drink. “Tonight leads to many nights.” He swirls it, the melting ice clinking tinily against the glass. “What ask you, Thor?”

This is not the night to demand. It is not the night for force, or to take what he will as he has so often, bu the strength of his good right arm. Often, he has driven Loki from him by these measures. Tonight he will use the Trickster's own subtlety, and see if he can bring him close.

“I want to give you pleasure.” Thor takes Loki's glass. He waits a moment. Will there be a protest? When there is is not, he takes his other hand. “Just this once I want an encounter with you that ends in both our smiles.”

“As has not often been the case lately.” Loki's voice is very low. He looks down, as if studying the way Thor's big hands swallow his own smaller ones. “Then he looks up. Can Odin's heir put away thoughts of his future and mine so easily? Can he take enjoyment in what is only a transient moment?”

This, now this is acquiescence. Loki is his, if only for tonight. Let tomorrow take care of itself, Thor tells himself. He smiles, his blue eyes meeting Loki's green ones. “He can try, if the Trickster will for his part, attempt to forget all thought of Odin and Asgard.”

Loki's smile relaxes. “The wish dearest to my heart.”

Thor cups Loki's face again. “If you knew how beautiful you are to me.”

For once, his brother leans into his touch. His eyes are half-closed, like a cat's when he is being petted. “You are the one who will regret this.”

Regret? The word could not be further from his heart! “What will I regret? I thought you lost, when you fell from the Bifrost. I wanted only to have the chance to hold you and give you the love I had thought about so often. Now you are here, and finally you let me hold you close, as I should have held you long ago. I regret nothing.”

Loki laughs. -- Actually, he laughs! – It is a soft sound that speaks of excitement. “Whence this daring attitude? Do you really... -- _Can_ you really...” His voice breaks off. What was he going to say, Thor wonders? _Do you really love me? ...Can you love a Frost Giant's offspring?_ Are such questions in Loki's mind, or are they only in his? “Let us return to the penthouse,” Loki murmurs. “This daring new Thor pleases me.”

“We will tell our friends first.” Thor looks. Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Didn't he see him at a table with the Lady Pepper, just a few minutes before?

“Nay.” Loki pulls a hand free, fumbling in his pocket to draw out his Stark-phone. “Once we are there I will send a text-message.”

Embarrassing to admit: Thor has not actually mastered the sending or the reading of these “messages” yet. He looks at the phone. “You are clever as always.” A moment passes, and a voice speaks from behind him.

“What's this I hear? You're not running out on us, Thor? And taking Loki too?” Tony looks at them, then turns a smiling face Steve's way. “I'm sensing something going on here, aren't I? What are they putting in the drinks tonight? Spanish Fly? First Bruce and Pepper, then...”

Steve nudges him. “Quiet, Tony.” He looks at Thor. “You've got a way to get home?”

Loki nods. He raises his hand. The green glow of magic begun is faint. -- His brother's magic is formidable indeed, Thor is reminded again, not only powerful, but all but invisible. – “Farewell my friends.”

“Farewell.” Thor blinks, as he sees he is speaking to the Christmas tree in the penthouse. They are standing by the sofa in the penthouse. Behind Loki, the window, and the city glittering as many lights as the tree.

He cannot hold back a delighted laugh. “Brother...” But there are no brothers here. Tonight there are only two men, who have been separated far too long. “Loki...”

The penthouse is completely silent. It's dark, lit just by the sparkle from the Christmas tree. Thor stands holding one of Loki's hand, his other hand on his waist, where he put it while they were teleporting. This hand he raises, gently running it up and down Loki's back. 

He hears the hitch of his brother's breath... – No, of _Loki's_ breath. – But Loki just stands there. The smile on his face does not change. “None of our friends will return until late,” he murmurs. “We are alone.”

“Alone.” Thor echoes the word. He cups Loki’s face in both his hands, tilting him towards him, staring into green eyes that stare back at him as though searching his very soul. His mind flashes back: They stood like this before, did they not? _I thought you were dead,_ he remembers saying, and Loki's challenging words: _Did you mourn?_

_We all did..._ It felt the wrong answer then. How much more does it so now, when he understands the depth of Loki's alienation from their family, from Asgard.

“Loki...”

“What comes next, Thor?” So close are they, that the soft breath of Loki's whisper brushes his face. “What were you thinking of?” His green eyes never leave Thor's face. There is amusement in them, and something like curiosity. “Was it this?” He leans close and Thor feels Loki's mouth against his.

It's just the soft touch of lips against lips, but happiness floods him. That this should be Loki, who was lost to him... – Who did nothing but spit angry words when first he was found, and now he is willing to be this close, this intimate. 

“You have always understood me so well.” 

“You are an open book, Thor.” Loki's hands come up to rest on Thor's, still cupped around his face. A touch without a conflict. – How huge that is, Thor thinks. When he remembers their encounter in New York during the invasion, the evil little knife his brother drove between his ribs. -- “You wear your heart on your sleeve.” Loki's breath brushes his face like a soft whisper. Thor smells the bourbon he was drinking at the party, the faint scent of spices that was always his.

“What do you see there?” he asks him. “What do you find in my heart, that is so easy to read?”

Loki's green eyes are cloudy, as with dreams. “I see a man who still thinks he can win whate'er he wants through strength. – Thor if you knew how I long, how I crave to be able to trust that strength of yours...”

What is stopping him, Thor wonders, what besides his own subtle nature, that has to see complexity e'en where there is none to see? But now he has the answer he wanted: “Trust this.” When their lips meet again, it is Thor's kiss, and it is no mere brush of the lips. He pulls his brother close and there is no protest. His arms tighten around Loki’s body, his lips plunder his mouth. No sweet, lying words from that mouth, not tonight. No vicious insults or relentless questioning either. Thor pulls him closer. His tongue demands, and Loki's mouth opens wide, giving him all he craves.

When they pull apart, it is mutual. Loki's eyes are very dark, his breath comes uneven, as if from strong emotion. “We are fully clothed.” His voice is a murmur. “We have yet e'en to sit down.”

Thor longs to ask: Does he trust him now? Does he believe his promises to make this work? But words have never been the right way to get the truth out of Loki. “I could not help myself,” he says. “Your trust, Loki... The fact that you would let yourself be here with me like this...”

“Trust? There is no trust here, Thor. There is only the moment.” The words ring false. How strange, Thor thinks. When have Loki's words ever rung false like this, falser than his most transparent lie? It is like he is trying to convince himself... “Kiss me again.”

For a moment, Thor cannot respond, so confused he is by Loki's tone. Then when he does respond, it is to pull him down onto the couch, to do the rudimentary magic that removes the armor he wore to Friend Tony's party, so that he is clad only in his tunic and trousers. “With pleasure.” His lips are already against Loki's as he speaks. “How happily will I do what you ask of me.”

“Would you do anything I asked of you?” Loki's voice is playful. It's the familiar Loki-voice he's used to, the teasing tone Thor remembers hearing right before so many acts of mischief. Is this play? – He was never sure what was play and what was seriousness, never in all the years he spent growing up with Loki. – Never mind, let it be play if that makes Loki happy.

“I don't know.” In his own voice, the tone of challenge that used to push Loki to risks and exciting, if dangerous games. “What would you ask of me, brother?”

“No 'brother', remember?” Loki’s arms are around his neck; his body suddenly, is all but underneath Thor's on the couch. His mouth is open to Thor's, seeming greedy for his kisses. “We are Loki and Thor only, and for once free of our pasts. Do not change that, pray.”

Thor's hands are tangled in Loki's hair, in that hair he keeps so tidy and controlled, so unlike his own mane, which is free to blow wheree'er it will. Slicked as it looks, the feel is soft under his fingers. “No, with all my heart!” Tomorrow is soon enough to wonder if Loki's words make sense, if two children of Asgard can become children of noplace in particular to suit a whim of their own. For tonight, let it be reality, if that will bring Loki to his arms. Thor plunders another kiss. “Tell me what you would have me do, Loki.” 

“No tunic, Thor.” It's just the faintest, soft whisper. Loki has shed jacket and shirt already himself, Thor notices suddenly. It is his bare body, pale as a fish, that presses so close to his own. “No trousers, I would feel your flesh, bare against my own.”

“With all my heart, Loki.” Such simple magic to make their clothing fade, and such a difference to the feel of their embrace. Loki's skin is flawless. -- How is it flawless, Thor wonders? His brother has been in combat, he's had ...the gods know what happen to him when he was with the Chitauri. Where are the scars? But Loki would not have there be scars, would he? His magic has erased them, and his body is perfection, smooth-perfect skin under Thor's fingers.

Loki's scent is bewitching: Bourbon, and spices, and ...magic. Tonight is the night when he will have all of him, Thor thinks. He will revel in the scent, the taste, the feel that is Loki, and tomorrow they will wake still in each others' arms.

A slender hand touches his cheek, teasing fingers scratching at his stubble, before trailing across his lips. “With all your _heart,_ ” Loki murmurs. “And Thor has a big, big heart.” 

“And it is all yours, Loki, my heart and ...all of me.” Thor feels his heartbeat, so hard he can barely speak. Loki is his for the claiming, his to love as he has waited so long to love him, but still the doubt remains: What if this is too much, too fast? What if he is ruining everything between them... He can’t afford to lose Loki again, not now, not ever.

He feels Loki’s fingers tangling in his own hair, yanking the blond strands. “A worthy gift: The heart of the God of Thunder is mine for the taking.” He snuggles closer, his lips against the line of Thor's jaw. “I am more interested in what else you have to give right now. Show me, Thor. Let me know you fully.”

_And I you: Loki, will I ever know you fully?_ The doubt is there, fully formed in his mind but for an instant. Then his hands are on Loki’s sides, moving lower down his hips. They've never been so close like this, both bare, both vulnerable, and yet full with power and presence. Loki’s soft moan urges him on, his body responding to the emotion and the touche, and he’s grateful for the warm, strong feel of Loki’s arms around him. The last of his doubt fades, and all is silent in the penthouse, save for the sounds of their pleasure.


	9. Awakening to Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first, Loki is not sure what wakes him. Then he realizes Bruce has just come into the penthouse ...and what he has to have seen.

At first, he is not sure what wakes him. It is the lights, he thinks, that weird, unnatural twinkle: Red, yellow, green and blue... Midgardian Christmas bush... – It is bush, right? No, _tree_. -- Midgardian Christmas tree lights. Then the body next to him shifts, and he knows it is that. The hardness of muscled flesh under his head, where a pillow ought to be... The sudden jerk as – Thor! It is Thor! – ...As his brother rolls over in his sleep, and Loki is near thrown to the ground.

They are on the sofa. – Why are they on the sofa? – ...In Tony's penthouse... He and Thor are _lying together_ , on the sofa, in the penthouse. Then Loki hears the sound that woke him again. The discrete shush of the elevator doors closing. It was the opening then, that was the sound he heard. ...He is on the sofa, with Thor, in the penthouse, and somebody has seen them. Who? Loki sits up and turns a sleep-tousled head toward the elevators.

Brown eyes behind thick glasses look back at him, a surprised expression. “Loki?” Bruce says.

And it were Tony, he would be making comments by now. And it were Steve, he would be organizing them to go back to their... Back to one bedroom, or two? His bedroom? Thor's bedroom? What implications has he allowed to be made by being found here?

“Bruce.” The quick wit of the Liesmith is slowed, dulled with sleep. Words form in his mind, but he does not say them, fearful of implicating himself still further with a poorly crafted deception. “You're home late,” he says instead.

“Pepper knew an after-hours club.” Bruce wears a pleased smile. “Jazz,” he says. “Bebop. You'd have liked it, Loki. Maybe we'll take you sometime.” --

“ _We_.” Bruce is a _we_ now, is he? –

“Listen,” he says, “I didn't mean to disturb you. – You and Thor.” – 

“ _You and Thor..._ ” Is Loki also a _we_ then? –

_This is not what it seems_ : The urge to say it, to shout it... But it is exactly what it seems. He let Thor... He and Thor...

“There are some good young performers here in New York.” Bare shoulder fully visible over the sofa, hair quite obviously sleep-tumbled... – And the smell! Does it smell of sex in here? – Loki makes only the merest semblance of polite conversation, while he awaits Bruce's departure. “Most happily will I go with you and Pepper, should you be so kind as to invite me.”

He feels a stirring next to him, and Thor sits up. “Loki?”

Thor's blue eyes find him and light with happiness. Simple happiness... _Stupid_ happiness. He puts up one big hand, cupping his cheek, stroking his skin with his calloused thumb.

“Loki, you are awake.” His voice, warm and protective. ...His voice, so intimate. But they are not the only ones here. “Something troubles you?” he murmurs. 

“Friend Bruce has returned from his evening with the Lady Pepper.” His own voice, is it stiff? Does it not need to be, that someone may make it clear they are not a couple? And it were left to the Thunderer alone, he'd be gowned and veiled for their nuptial day in Fair Asgard. Loki murmurs an incantation and a blanket appears, something to give a little much-needed privacy. 

“Bruce and the Lady Pepper?” A quick look of shock flashes across Thor’s face, and Loki wonders if their thoughts are finally coming close to each others. Foolish thought. Thor smiles. He sits up, the blanket sliding to the floor and leaving them both bare. 

“Friend Bruce, it is a happy night for all! The Lady Pepper is a damsel of rare dignity and beauty.” His arm, around Loki's shoulder, leaves no doubt that he too feels he has reason to be happy. And why not? Bruce has his damsel, and Thor has his... His Trickster?

To pull away would only underscore the obvious. Loki bends instead, trying futilely to recover the blanket from the floor. 

“A happy night, yeah.” Bruce's gaze goes from Thor to Loki and back. He smiles weakly. “Are Steve and Tony back yet?”

_No, you clot. And they were, we had woken and moved to our bedrooms long before this._

“Not yet.” Thor rises. -- Bare, _naked_ , Thor rises! – “I thirst.” He moves toward the kitchen. “Loki, would you care for something to drink?”

Again, that smile of his. What does he see in those blue eyes, Loki wonders? There is love there, and trust. Is there also mastery? – Control? What sort of privileged lordling walks so free, as confident in his nakedness as he is in his claim over another?

“I thirst not,” he lies.

He watches Bruce's gaze move from his own face to snatch just the quickest glance at Thor's nakedness. When he looks back his face is reddened, his expression is nonplussed. “Well, if you're both... Since you're both...”

_There is no “both” of us. I am not “both”, with this swaggering clodpole._

Bruce stammers, but his smile never fades. It appears as if pasted on. “I see you don't need anything,” he says. “I'm going to bed.”

“If you're sure?” By the refrigerator, Thor turns, the light inside highlighting his manhood for all who would look. He holds up a carton. “You would not like to share some orange juice before you go?”

“Y-yes, I’m sure.” Does Thor notice how red Bruce has turned? Nay, he does not even think about it, no more than he thinks about the feelings of the one who has scarce granted him this evening of intimacy, and now must needs be his completely. Oh so easy, to be Odin's heir, with everything yours for the taking. “Good night.” Bruce's voice is a squeak. “Good night, both of you.” 

“Good night, Friend Bruce!” Thor bends, returning the juice to the refrigerator. All that is visible now is his backside, his big, pink, ridiculous backside. Then he turns back, big shoulders visible, strong chest, and his face, still wearing that same beatific smile. “Loki, I am so honored, so glad...”

“I'm going to bed.” Loki rises. He wraps the conjured blanket around his own midsection. Oaf, he thinks, lummox, clay-brained codpiece... Did he really trust himself to this ...this ego-driven bundle of arrogance, who has not the barest understanding of how his behavior affects others? Is it not all of a piece? As he will embarrass their friend Bruce, so he will hurt Loki or take his dignity, and it suits his own needs. And he will not give it a second chance, will he? 

“Brother, why?” There is surprise in Thor's voice. Mayhap there is some unhappiness too, but Loki does not let himself hear it. What he hears instead, is the word... That word that is wrong in truth, and doubly wrong in this evening's situation.

“We are not brothers!” The rage is easy. It is a relief from the confusing mix of emotions he felt before. “Call me not by that word, son of Odin.” 

When he sees shame flare on the Thunderer's face, Loki turns away. “You are right, Loki. I ...I should not have...” – He should not have what? – “I will ...Let me...” – Let him what? Let him touch him again? Let them lie together in warmth and comfort? ...Nay, what future is there for him in such?

“It is late.” Loki no longer feels rage, but rather a different emotion. Let it not be given its name, for the Trickster does not feel such things as regret ...or guilt. “I would sleep, Thor. We can speak together on the morrow.” 

“Mayhap we can renew tonight's conversation?” Thor's voice is soft, supplicant almost.

“Nay.” Loki keeps his own voice cold, and he allows himself to feel nothing, as he leaves the living room, for his own cold, empty bed.


	10. Tony Behaves Himself for the Cap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two charity events in two days? Are you fucking kidding? Unfortunately for Tony, Steve's not.

Steve wakes up at dawn, even though it's a Sunday, even though they were out half the night the night before. What were they doing the night before? It was the annual Charity Ball. Normally he'd have grabbed all the hottest-looking babes he could find and gone on somewhere for an after-party of his own, but he had Steve with him last night. Naturally Captain America's all for any worthwhile cause he can find, even if it's kissing ass on a lot of old people. He'd probably have done it even if they didn't have money to donate, just on general principles. Then after the Korean food, – He doesn't have anybody to blame but himself for this one! – it was his brilliant idea that they should go find a horsedrawn cab and ride around Central Park after they left. Because Steve was talking about how much New York had changed, and his face got all sad and crap. So what else is Tony Stark supposed to do? He says he's going to get a horsedrawn cab for his boyfriend no matter what it costs. He finds one too. Probably the last one in the city. Horse drawing it looks about a million years old, and the cabbie's this skinny kid with dreads and a Jamaican accent. Kind of sweet, riding around like that though: Him and Steve cuddled under the kid's ratty-ass old blanket, with his reggae playing in the background, and the cold, cold – Cold, cold, _**COLD!!!**_ – wind blowing on them all the way around the park. Then they came home and made sweet, sweet, warm-your-boyfriend-up-before-his-ass-freezes-off love until they fell asleep. ...And now it's fuckin' 7:00 in the morning, and here's Steve up, fresh as a daisy.

And he's up too. Why's he up too? With Steve, it's the serum. The team that developed it apparently thought good soldiers should be able to run all the time and not need any sleep, because Steve never sleeps more than four or five hours a night. But what's his excuse? Tony sits up. Then he tries to get a breath. Then when he sneezes, he gets it: He got a fuckin' _cold_ , riding around in that goddamn cab half the night. Shit.

Steve's in the shower. It's a miracle he even hears. “You okay, Tony?” he calls out over the sound of the water.

“Yeah, I'b okay.” – Cough-cough, and sneeze-sneeze. – “Nothig a day id front of the TV and some booze won't fix.”

“Yeah.” Splash-splash of Steve in the water. -- Slippery-sexy Steve, in the hot, steamy water, all muscles and bare, wet skin... _Come on over here, Steve baby, and let Papa Tony ...sneeze all over you. Fuckin' cold._ – The water turns off. “You're probably right.” A minute or two later, there's Steve in sweats. “Want to come down to the gym with me? We've got time for a quick workout before we get ready for the party.”

The party? ...The _party_??? _No, Steve, we just went to the party last night. It sucked fuckin' ass, if you'll remember._ “I thought I just told you: I'm sick.”

“You've got a cold.” Mean Steve's not coming over to cuddle poor, sick Tony. He's on the other side of the bed putting his sneakers on instead. “I'll get you something for it, some Musterole, or some Alka-Seltzer or something. You can't back out on me Tony, you _promised_. It's on all the signs: Captain America, Iron Man, and Santa Claus. The kids are expecting you.”

“What kids, Steve?”

Impatient, irritated sigh. “The USO party. Jeez Tony, how long ago did I tell you about it? Three months or something? And you promised you'd be there. You said you'd put it on your calendar.”

Back-to-back charity parties two days in a row? And he _promised_? He sits up, which sets off another explosion of sneezes, and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “How drunk was I to make a promise like that?”

“Drunker than should have been.” Finally, finally, Steve comes over and gives him some of the petting he deserves. “I'll get you something, Tony. What do you want? – What do people take for colds nowadays?”

“Four-shot macchiato with brandy in it, and a broad to take your boyfriend's place in your cold, cold bed...”

“I'll get you some aspirin or something. Bruce will tell me what to get. And I'll make you some coffee. – You'll be fine by the time of the party.” He bends in for a hug. Tony gets just a little whiff of aftershave and wet-Steve (That he can't _smell_ , because he's got a fuckin' _cold_ ). “I really appreciate this, Tony. The kids are looking forward to seeing us.”

Kids. Steve leaves the room. Tony hears the elevator, but he doesn't feel quite ready to leave their warm bed himself yet. Goddamn cold. ...Goddamn cold, _plus_ he has to go to a party with kids at it. A lot of little rug-rats to sneeze on the suit (like he's not going to be doing enough of that himself, today) and he's going to have to be a role model for them. Shit.

A few minutes later, Steve's back. He shoves a steamy mug into his hands. Coffee? Tony perks up just long enough to look into the cup and see the teabag full of weird, branchy-looking stuff. “What the hell is this crap?”

“Herbal tea. Bruce swears by it.”

“Yeah, well if the big green monster-guy likes it...” The words aren't even out of his mouth before Tony feels guilty for them. He eyes the tea again. “I want coffee.”

“Bruce says no. The caffeine uh... It constricts something, I think that's what he said. This tea has eucalyptus in it, and slippery elm, and some other things I don't remember. Drink it, Tony. You'll feel a lot better.”

He doesn't. He feels like shit, only he doesn't have a fever, so apparently he's good to go. Bruce is ordering pizza in and teaching Thor about football. And Loki's ...somewhere ...doing something that looks a lot like sulking, only hadn't little Reindeer Games given that up? Besides, Tony thought he and Thor were finally getting along kind of... Anyway, you don't see any of them leaving the Tower on this cold Sunday afternoon. It's just Steve and Tony. Correction, just Captain America, and Iron Man, in his goddamn pinchy, uncomfortable suit.

“JARVIS, take a note.” After the forty-fifth or so sneeze in less than five minutes. “Soon as I get over this damn bug, I add a sneeze-guard to this thing.”

“You might want to add a function to let it out an inch or two as well sir. Colds appear to _bloat_ you, sir.” 

His damn, efficient, too-personal AI. “No they don't.” Tony sucks in his gut and, sure enough, the suit fits fine just like it always does. He goes to the door, where Steve's already waiting, practically bouncing on his toes, he's so eager. “You know, I used to hate USO shows when that's all I did. They're important though. The USO does a lot of good work.” He eyes Tony. “You put the suit on _now_? You going to fly us there?”

He put the suit on because he wants to get this thing over with. The sooner he's done doing _worthy causes_ for people, the happier Tony Stark is going to be. “Yeah, sure, of course.” He doesn't want to fly. For once in his life, he'd be happier just sitting in the back of a nice comfortable car where he could relax. “We've never flown together, Steve. Let me take you up, you'll love it.”

“Um... Fine.”

Steve loves it. Once they're up there, Tony ends up having fun too. Steve's used to flyboys. He can take a lot more risks with him than Pepper ever wanted when he used to take her up this way. Unfortunately, it's a short flight, just midtown Manhattan, over to the Bronx, where the USO hall is.

“Big USO Party,” the signs say. “Iron Man! Captain America! Santa Claus!” They land backstage and right away there's this lady waiting to show them around. “You're early.” She's cute. Not Pepper-cute, or Natasha-hot, but cute enough, with blue eyes and blonde-streaked hair, and a figure that makes its presence known, even under her drab little mouseburger-dress. “Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee.” Screw Bruce and his damn advice. The only thing that's going to get Tony through this thing is some good, constricting _caffeine_. 

Steve eyes him. He'd better be grateful Tony hasn't found whatever crew member has a flask with them and begged a drink off him instead. The Santa Claus is bound to have one. Santas are always drinkers, right?

“Of course.” Cute mouseburger-lady brings him a styrofoam cup full of something that tastes like it was made in the Cretaceous Period. You could probably refine the stuff and fuel race cars. Tony takes a drink or two where Steve can see though, just to prove that he can. Then he follows along and their hostess gives them the grand tour. 

Blah-blah bouncy house... Yadda yadda bouncy Big Slide... Everything's bouncy here, isn't it? Even mouseburger-lady''s cute little ass. Ho-hum, cotton candy machine. Cough-cough, sneeze-sneeze... – Oh lookie here, this is where the clown makes the balloon animals. “And here's where you and Mr. Stark will be.” Cute mouseburger-chick has a stage for them, all draped with red-white-and-blue stuff, and with a very big Stark Enterprises logo. Apparently corporate has been in touch with them. It's not a very high stage, and it's got chairs. Right now one of those looks pretty comfortable.

“Very nice.” Steve gives her that choirboy/hero smile of his. “And when do the kids start coming?”

“The doors open in fifteen minutes.” – Yay. If he can just fish the dinosaur bones out of the coffee and drink the rest of it, maybe he'll be energized and ready for them by then. – “Do you want to meet the rest of our guest-celebrities?”

Steve does. He always wants to meet everyone. Tony doesn't. He's heard who else is coming. Taylor Swift, Coco Jones... -- Maybe if he was into jailbait. – Big Time Rush? What the hell is that even? It sounds like what he'd get if he tracked down the backstage-guy with the cocaine. ...Oh, and Nicki Minaj. No. He doesn't want to meet the other “celebrities”. “You guys go on ahead,” he says. “I'll just hang out here.” _...Maybe I'll cough myself to death while you're schmoozing with the D-listers, Steve, or somebody will take pity on me and bring me a martini._

“Tony's not feeling 100% today.” Steve makes his excuses, as he follows mouseburger-chick in the direction of some loud, vaguely pop-ish music.

“Oh, I'm sorry...” More yadda yadda. More blah blah blah. Tony drinks the coffee. Which doesn't help much. Only now he has to pee. The doors open and the kids show up of course, right while he's wishing he'd stuck to mouseburger-chick long enough to find out where the bathrooms are. 

Here's Steve back again. “I'm glad you came today, Tony.” He gives his hand a quick squeeze (through the glove, which of course means he doesn't feel anything). “You watch, the kids will be thrilled.”

The kids are. Also quite a lot of nerds, most of whom are desperate to show him how they've modded Minecraft so Steve has a suit and the Creepers look like Chitauri. On iPhones. Way to get the tech wrong, kiddos. He also gets lots of dads, who want to ask questions about the women he's dated. Meanwhile Steve's getting the same steady stream of visitors. He's got kids hugging him, and geezers wanting to swap war stories. – And way more chicks than Tony's getting. It's because his face shows, right? _Well exc-uuu-uuuuse me, girls. If you knew how hard it is to find plexiglass that will withstand a nuclear blast..._ – He's in his element here. He probably wishes the party would last all night.

It lasts until five. Which is plenty long enough as far as Tony's concerned. He's a good boy, and he stays _right there_ , on the goddamn platform, all the way to the end of the thing. He hugs the kiddies (and makes sure not to wipe their damn sticky fingerprints off the suit until they're out of sight), and he makes nice to the geeks with the iPhones. And he doesn't hit on the moms, not even the really MILF'y ones. About 4:30 or so, he does step away for a minute when he gets a text message, but that's it. The rest of the time he's there.

Interesting message: Johnny Storm's having a party tonight and he wants Tony to come. This is going to be _so_ not Steve's thing. You could rank every thing in the known universe according to how much Steve's going to like it, and going to a party with Reed Richards' brat brother-in-law would probably rank dead last. But Tony's going nuts here. He's been doing the whole Mom And Apple Pie thing for two straight nights, which has got to be some kind of a record. Storm might be a little annoying, but he throws good parties. Nice _loud_ ones. With lots of women and an open bar. Good-boy Tony deserves some fun too, doesn't he?

The party ends. Finally. Steve hugs one more kid. He signs an autograph for one more ~~MILF~~ mom. Then he comes over to where Tony's already off the stage and looking for the exit. “I'm really glad we did this,” he says. “Aren't you, Tony?” 

“I'm glad!” Here comes mouseburger-chick. It occurs to Tony: Maybe she wants to come to Storm's party too? She looks like she might be fun, after she gets a drink or two into her. “It all went so well, didn’t it Steve? Tony?”

“Yeah, it went great.” Okay, here's the game plan: He'd better not ask Mousie. Steve probably wouldn't appreciate that. Steve though, he'll go. He _owes_ Tony, and one thing about those Greatest Generation-type guys, they paid what they owed. “We'll have to do it again real soon,” Tony says, which earns him an approving nod from Steve, and a huge, super-enthusiastic smile from Mousie.

“We're having an Easter party too!” 

“We'll get back to you about that one,” Steve says. “Have to check our schedules, you know, maybe do some Avengers-stuff and like that.” He takes Tony's arm and heads them toward the exit. “You'd better watch out what you promise, Tony. The USO takes those things seriously.”

“I might be up for another party.” Who says Tony Stark can't negotiate? You give something, you get something, that's how it works, right? “I know it means a lot to you, and what's important to my Steve, is important to me too.”

“ _My_ Steve?” Steve snerks a little at that one. “I think the fever's getting to you, Tony.” 

“It's just love...” Tony unlatches the faceplate on the helmet, so he can use his puppy-dog eyes on Steve. “Love, and... I've got a party I'd like us to go to, Steve.” He holds out the cell phone, so Steve can read the message.

“Johnny?” He hands the phone back to Tony. “Johnny who?”

“Storm.” _Talk fast, Tony. Get him convinced before he can say no._ “Johnny Storm. You know, Reed Richards' brother-in-law? You like Reed and Susan, right?”

“They're going to be there?” Steve frowns. “It doesn't sound like their kind of party.”

_No, but it's my kind of party, Steve._ “Come on Steve. I did this for you. I came to your USO party. – I went to that charity thing last night. I've been a good boy all weekend, don't I deserve to have some fun?”

Steve's frown doesn't change. “Fun, yeah. Believe me, Tony. I appreciate how you've been behaving yourself. But you're sick. Do you really need to stay up until all hours at a party? Not to mention the drinking... Do you know how you'll feel in the morning?”

_Yeah, I'll feel like I had some fun. For a change._ Tony does the puppy-dog eyes for all he's worth. “ _Please_ Steve?”

“Fine.” Huge huff of breath from Captain America. “But we don't stay too late, all right?”

“Sure, Mommy.” And the big grin from Iron Man, who doesn't even feel his cold any more, thank you very much. That's because having a good time is the best cure for everything. “Come on. Let’s fly the hell outta here.”


	11. ...And Then he Fucks Up Big Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny Storm's parties are notorious. And there's a reason for that.

All the way up to the loft, the elevator is vibrating. What is it with people in this century? Music isn't music to them, unless the bass is turned up high enough to shake the fillings out of your teeth. The elevator doors open, and Steve's hit with more noise, horrible noise, that sounds like cats being killed in some kind of terrible industrial accident. He sees random, flashing lights, and a crowd so tight he's not sure he and Tony can squeeze through.

“They can't be zoned for this many people here, can they?”

Tony's eye-roll doesn't come as any surprise. Neither does the irritated little huff of breath he gives ...right before they dive into the noise and the crowding, and Steve can barely hear it when he _talks_ , never mind any other noises he makes. “Lighten up, okay?” He gestures. “There's _super-heroes_ here, remember? If there's trouble, we'll get everyone out safely.”

Yeah. That sure makes this party more fun.

“Look over there.” Tony points. He shouts. “Hey Logan, how's it hanging? Still rocking the facial hair, I see.”

Wolverine's here? Steve barely catches a glimpse of him before the crowd swallows him up. There's nothing but kids here, that he can see: Kids in t-shirts, kids in skinny little hipster-jackets... Kids with glasses in their hands, and kids with drunk-looking girls hanging off their arms. Tony's easily the oldest person in the room, by at least a decade. Is this really his idea of fun?

The whole thing kind of blurs together, and suddenly they're standing next to the bar. Johnny Storm is there, with his arms around a couple of drunk-looking blondes. 

“Tony!” He waves, and one of his girls practically falls over. “Glad you could make it! Meet my friends, Katie and...” He looks down at the wobblier of the two blondes. “What was your name?”

“Amanda. Baby.” Yay, nothing says “party” like a slurry blonde bimbo.

“Yeah, whatever.” Johnny gestures toward the bar, then grins at Tony. “Bar's open. C'mon bro, what'll you have?”

“Bro”? Steve looks at Tony.

“Give it a chance.” Tony sounds guilty. “You know how Storm is.”

_Yeah. Younger than you. A lot younger than you, Tony._ Steve bites his tongue,. He knows what'll happen if he says it out loud. “Right, sure. Of course.” He sighs. “Can I get a Manhattan?”

“Sure! Bartender knows all those vintage cocktails!” Johnny gives both him and Tony a slap on the shoulder, practically losing his bimbos in the process. “Hey, catch you later, bro.” He's gone, and Steve finds himself being handed a glass with a cherry in it.

Tony motions to the bartender. “I'll take one of those too. Make it a double.” He looks at Steve. “Is it any good?”

It isn't. That doesn't stop Tony from drinking half of it as soon as the glass is in his hands. He makes a face. “Christ! Cherry juice _and_ cheap whiskey?”

“I think the cherry juice is to cover up the taste of the cheap whiskey.”

“Well I'm not drinking it, and neither should you.” Tony signals the bartender over. A long conversation follows. “Where do you keep the good stuff?” Steve hears. And, “do you actually _have_ any good stuff here tonight?” Then Tony's shoving a new cocktail into his hands, that only tastes marginally better than the first one, and he's got a very full glass of something pale-colored in his own hand.

“Patron.” He takes a drink. “He had some decent tequila back there, that's about all he had.”

Steve is still amazed that his boyfriend, who was too sick to enjoy the USO benefit, now seems to have made a perfect recovery and he's guzzling tequila like it went out of style. Doesn't he have any common sense? Oh yeah that's right, this is Tony Stark.

Some of that must show on his face, because Tony frowns. “You owe me. I went to your party.”

“His party”, right. “His party”, that raised thousands of dollars for wounded veterans, and gave a lot of kids some fun. Perfect trade-off for the party with... -- Steve looks around. -- ...With the stripper poles, and the MC that looks as drunk as the party-goers... – And oh lookie there, there's some kids smoking reefer. Makes total sense, right?

“I'm here,” he says. “What do you want to do first?”

“I want you to stop being boring.” Girls are coming up to them. Blond-haired girls, and brown-haired girls, and some very pretty Asian girls. One minute they're just standing there with their drinks in their hands. The next minute, they've got hands all over them, and Tony doesn't seem to mind at all. “We're here to have _fun_ , Steve. Can you at least give it a chance?”

He means drink. He seems to have forgotten that Steve can't get drunk. It's a little side-effect of the super-soldier serum, that didn't seem to matter very much when he was a ninety-eight pound weakling back in Brooklyn, and the strongest thing he'd ever tasted was a celery tonic anyway.

“Sure.” Steve drinks. This isn't Tony's fault. He can't help it that his idea of fun is getting drunk off his ass, and he's dating someone that can't even get a little bit tipsy. Besides, he did go to the USO event. It's only fair to do something he likes for a change. ...Something Tony's going to be regretting like hell, when he wakes up Monday morning. Steve sets his empty glass on the bar. “Give me another.”

“You don't want one of those.” Tony's got another glass in his hand, this one full of brown liquid. “The rye's shit. Have some bourbon.” He reaches behind the bar and pulls out a bottle. “Can't fuck up Jack Daniels.”

Weak smile. “I'll just have another Manhattan.”

“You could dance.” Helpful Tony. He's got a pretty brown-haired girl crowded up next to him. “This is Inez. She's a big fan. Says her aubua... – What was it? – Yeah right: Her abuelito saw you in San Juan in the 40's.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” Inez has pretty brown eyes, but it's hard to focus on them, because she also has about the lowest-cut dress he's ever seen, and with no shortage of bust that needs covered up by it. Steve looks over at Tony. Aren't they supposed to be a couple? Does a guy's boyfriend normally bring him to a party so he can push him off on random girls? 

Tony's got a random girl too. White-blonde, mouthful of big white teeth: He's saying something that makes her throw back her head and laugh. Then she's dragging him toward the dance floor. Steve gets it, all right. It doesn't go with the playboy-Tony Stark image, to be in a steady relationship with another man. But Tony said their relationship mattered to him. Doesn't that mean he should care enough to be honest about it in public? If anyone should be dancing to this... -- To this stuff that doesn't sound like music to ears educated by Benny Goodman, but seems to be getting everyone here dancing all right. – Shouldn't it be him and Tony together? _Really_ together, not four feet apart from each other, and each with a half-drunk bimbo in his arms? 

“It's salsa.” Inez is so close it's like she's trying to rub the print of the Captain America suit off onto herself. She smiles up at him and bats her pretty brown eyes. “I'm, like, an expert at salsa. Ya wanna dance?” _Sure why not, Inez? Let's dance to this “salsa”-music. Leave it to the Twenty-First Century, to name a kind of music after Mexican food._

Steve gives her his bashful smile. “You'll have to show me what to do.”

“Oh, I'll show you!” Pretty arms, twisted around his neck, pretty fingers, threading through his hair. “I'll show you good!” Inez gives a little squeal. “I can't wait to tell Abuelito I danced with Captain America!”

There's Tony on the other side of the dance floor with white-blond bimbo-girl. He complained and complained about the kids getting fingerprints on the Iron Man suit when they were at the USO party, but he doesn't seem to mind her fingerprints now.

“I'll tell you a secret,” Steve hears him say. “I'm only wearing undershorts under this.” His red-and-gold fingers are all over her back. – Why do girls' dresses all have to be so skimpy these days? – “Nothing but guys living at the Tower right now: Me, Steve... – That's Captain America. – Thor, Loki... We pretty much share each others' clothes. No telling who's undershorts I put on this morning. I'd have to take the suit off to check.”

Yeah, no he wouldn't. Tony's wearing Steve's boxers, the ones with the picture of the shield in a _very_ embarrassing place, that he bought him for a joke, but Steve won't be seen dead in them so now Tony wears them. He's not serious about taking off the suit to show the girl, is he?

“All the Avengers living together, that's so sexy,” he hears her murmur. Then pretty Inez has whirled him away in some kind of extra-fancy salsa move, and he's out of earshot. The next time he meets up with Tony again is back at the bar (naturally). He's got his gloved hand up to show the repulsor. “I could lift you with this.” He's got a crowd of pretty girls he's talking to. “Just the one, yeah. Only I won't. I had a bad experience the last time I did it. Girl was wearing a dress, no underwear.” A shudder. “Looked like a jungle under there, that's all I'm saying.”

“Oh Mr. Stark, you could do me!” What is with girls in the Twenty-First Century, that they have to be so pushy? “No,” another says, “do me, I've got a Brazilian!” “I'm shaved...” Uggh, Steve looks away. He searches the crowd. There's got to be something to do at this party, besides drinking and flirting with bimbos.

“Hey Steve!” He's just caught sight of Wolverine, who still seems pretty sober. He was going to go over and talk to him, and maybe they could go someplace quiet and do something. That's when Tony's hand lands on his arm. “Girls,” – Tony turns him around, shows him to his bimbos. – “I'd like to introduce my boyfriend Steve Rogers.”

What? What the hell is Tony doing?

“Yeah, we're together.” The slur in his voice gives Steve the answer he needed. Tony's drunk. No surprise, considering he hasn't stopped drinking since they got here. “No, bi,” he says, answering a question from one of the bimbo-girls. “Steve too. You're bi, right Steve babe?”

Steve _babe_???

“There was that chick you told me about: What was her name? Peggy or something?” Tony reaches behind the bar and grabs the bottle of Jack Daniels, which is only about a quarter of the way full by now. “By the by, Steve, why did people all have such dumbass names in the 40's? Peggy! Jesus Christ!” He looks at his bimbos. “What're your names, girls?”

“Kayleigh.” That's bimbo number one. Bimbo number two: “Diamantay.” And number three: “Jazzmin.” And Tony's got a problem with Peggy?

“Yeah, exactly.” Tony fills his glass carelessly and drinks. “So anyway, what was I saying?” Another drink. “Oh that's right. We're bi, Steve and me, but Steve's my little love-buggy teddy-bear.” Tight hug, from the drunk guy in the Iron Man suit, then Tony pulls back. “Steve, I sense that you're not having a very good time here.”

_You think, Tony?_ Steve pulls free. “You're right, Tony. I'm not having a good time.”

“It's because you're not drunk.” Tony waves his glass. “Christ, you come to a party to get drunk, you should **get the fuck drunk** , am I right, girls?”

Coos and twitters: Oh, Tony's right! Tony Stark is _so_ right!

Satisfied nod from Tony. “I thought so. Your problem, Steve baby? You don't try hard enough.”

“I'll be leaving now.” Steve scans the party: Wolverine, is he anywhere around? Anybody else who's not drunk off their ass yet, who might still be able to have a sensible conversation? Nobody? Maybe it's time for him to just go home...

“You do that. Go the fuck home.” Steve hears Tony say something about _boring Steve_ , as he turns back to his bimbos. He hears one of the bimbos telling him back, that Steve might not try, but she tries hard at _everything_.

Steve turns away. And he doesn't look back. What the hell is there to look back for? Everyone told him there was no way Tony could keep on without being an asshole to him. It's his nature, they all said, especially if he's been drinking. He thought he was different. – That they were different together. Now that he thinks about it, it seems like a pretty dumb thing to have thought.

“I should never have come tonight.” Steve says it aloud. Why not? No one's going to hear anyway, it's so loud in here. “I should have used my best judgment and gone home after the benefit.”

“The benefit?” He must have been more distracted than he thought, because Steve doesn't even see the big orange arm until he runs right into it. He doesn't even notice Ben Grimm coming... And missing someone like Grimm, that takes some doing! 

“Steve Rogers, right?” Grimm's one of the Fantastic Four. He and Storm work together sure, but Steve had thought he was more Reed Richard's friend. He pulls Steve over to one side, out of the crowding and toward a closed door. “I heard you were real into that charity stuff.” Grimm opens the door. Cigar smoke billows out, and the low sound of conversation. “Heard you looked pretty good in a tuxedo at last night's Stark Benefit. Come in here for a while. Can't have a nice guy like you goin' home all upset.” 

Inside, there's a table, stacks of poker chips, a deck of cards. Steve sees Wolverine, a couple of other people he doesn't recognize. The one with the dark red eyes is Gambit, right? Doesn't he use playing cards as weapons? Apparently he likes them for other purposes as well, in his off-hours. 

“Hey pretty boy, bring it on over here.” Wolverine waves at him the table. “You don't mind a little harmless gambling, do you?”

First harmless thing he's seen tonight, Steve thinks. He comes over and sits down. There's a decanter on the table, some glasses, a plate of sandwiches.

“Captain America, n'est-ce pas?” Gambit slides the sandwiches across the table. “The one who was frozen in the ice?”

Steve takes one. He hasn't eaten since lunch, and the roast beef on sourdough tastes good. Wolverine holds up the decanter and looks at him. “Best stuff Scotland has to offer. You want some?”

“I'll pass.” Steve thinks about Tony, back by the bar, and he frowns.

“Let me guess.” Wolverine fills his own glass. “Stark giving you trouble?”

Gambit fishes a Coke out of a cooler on the floor and slides it toward him. “I hear you and Stark are... ah, dating? Seeing each other?”

“Rumor's true.” Grimm sits down and grabs a sandwich for himself. He looks at Steve. “Only maybe not for much longer. What do ya say, Steve?”

“I say it's none of your damn business, Ben.” Logan has a big cigar between his teeth. He points toward the box, looking Steve's way. “No? What's the point of that serum of yours if you don't have a little bad-for-you fun now and then?” A puff of bad-smelling smoke from his own. “Your choice. – Hey, we all know Stark here. Everyone does. He does shit like this, fucks up every good relationship he's in. You've stayed with him longer than anyone else he's been with.”

They've been together what? Two months now? And that's the _longest_ relationship Tony's ever had? In spite of himself, the anger starts to fade away and Steve's feeling sorry for him.

“Stay with us for a while.” Gambit picks up the deck and starts shuffling. The cards fly in his hands, complicated patterns too difficult to follow. “Mon ami Ben is here. He has to babysit little Johnny. The two of you can play babysitter together, and then take your drunk friends home when the party's over.”

“I ain't worried about Johnny. He'll crash here for the night.” Grimm looks at Steve. “Don't you worry 'bout taking Stark home either. I've seen him manage that suit of his when he was way drunker than this. We all have. Lots of times. You want to stay and play some cards with us anyway?”

“I didn't bring any money.” Steve watches the cards fly in Gambit's hands. First the shuffle, super-complicated, and so fast the cards blur into one fluid shape. Then the deal: Suddenly there are five cards sitting in front of him.

“I'll cover you.” Grimm slides a stack of chips his way. He looks Steve's suit up and down. “Not like ya got anyplace to keep money in that outfit.”

“Nice outfit, by the way.” Wolverine looks up from his cards for a minute to eye Steve. He grins.” “Daring style-choice to dress like that for a party.”

“It's because I came right from the USO benefit.” It's in his mouth, ready to say, when Wolverine interrupts.

“ _Another_ lousy hand? LeBeau, you dealing off the bottom of the deck again?”

“J'ai gros coeur.” Gambit gives Wolverine a smirk. “The cards love who they love, mon ami.” He returns a card and draws one from the deck. “Carte à la banque.” 

“They better not love you again, little Frenchy.” Grimm's got his cards in one hand, a sandwich in the other. He takes a bite ...luckily, from the right hand. “There's luck, and there's really good luck, and then there's clobbering time.”

Wolverine nudges Steve. “Ante up, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy! Why does everyone seem to think of him as the perfect, good, clean, wholesome American kid? What's so bad about being wholesome anyway? Does everyone have to be drunk all the time and looking up women's skirts? 

“Wake up, kid!” He gets another nudge. “You playing?”

He's not. He's still thinking about Tony. Steve forces himself to look at the cards in his hand: They're in sequence. He could get something good out of this maybe. He might as well play, he's got to do something with the evening besides going home and worrying about Tony crashing the suit into a building while he drunk-flies, all night long. Steve tosses a couple cards on the table. “Give me two more.”

“Watch out for Frenchy,” Grimm says. “He's setting you up for a pigeon.”

Yeah, no he's not. LeBeau's way too smart to try and take money from a guy that's just got the clothes on his back and a place to crash at his boyfriend's apartment. ...His drunk boyfriend. ...That's acting like an asshole and doesn't deserve to find him waiting at home when he gets there.

He does though. Steve catches a ride back to the Tower with Grimm after the party. Where else is he supposed to go? Besides, he can't stop thinking about what Logan said, about Tony never managing to hold onto a relationship for more than a month or two. Tony's a decent guy. – In between when he's being a complete jerk. – He's got good qualities, anyway. He's generous, and he goes out of his way to be fair to people, even people who don't deserve it, like Loki. He deserves another chance. ...Their relationship deserves another chance. If only because spending Christmas at the Tower with an _ex_ -boyfriend would be so horrible.

Steve takes off the suit. ...The pretty-boy, All-American Kid suit that always gets him so much ribbing. He climbs into Tony's big bed, that's probably seen more action than Guadalcanal and pulls the covers up to try to get warm. Covers don't work so well, not like having Tony cuddled up close. They don't tell you to “fuckin' go home,” though, or shout all the details about your relationship to a bunch of drunk floozies either. It's kind of a trade-off. Steve closes his eyes, but sleep won't come. He wishes the whiskey he'd drank with Logan and the others would have the same effect on him it has on everyone else. He'd be out by now, and dreaming. But it doesn't. It really, really doesn't.

_______________________

He doesn't go home with any of the girls. That's got to be some kind of milestone for him. He also doesn't go to any of the after-parties. And there are jillions of them. When you're Tony Stark, people tell you about things like that.

Storm's party starts to break up. It's kind of a gradual thing. Storm wanders away to do ...To do something. With him it's hard to tell what. He's got a girl in bed, or he's got two girls. Who knows, maybe he's out burning off all the booze he drank in one giant Flame On. Whatever. Anyway, Tony starts to get bored and he wants to find him so he can say good-bye, and Storm's nowhere around to say good-bye to.

Instead, it's Logan that seems to be winding things up for him. Logan? Does he even know Storm? Tony finds him over by the bar talking to the bartender. “I've got your check. The booze stays here.”

What booze there still is left. Most of the good stuff's gone. Tony grins. He's the reason _most_ of the good stuff's gone. The Jack Daniels. The Patron. That Puerto Rican chick, Inez: Did he do shots of Patron off her tits? No, it was the other one, wasn't it? The redhead, Diamantay, the one who's carpet didn't match her drapes. Yeah, she was fun. She was a lot of fun. Bad taste in drinks, but _fun_. It was after her... How many shots of whipped cream vodka had she had? -- Why do they even _make_ that shit? Whipped cream vodka: It's enough to make a guy puke. – ...After her fourth shot, or her fifth one maybe... He gave her a ride with the repulsors. It took both of them. He was ...maybe a little drunk by then. Her head hit the ceiling kind of hard, but she didn't care. And Steve was watching. Was he watching? Where was Steve by then?

Bartender-boy has a box on the counter. In goes the almost-empty bottle of Jack. In goes some vodka: Strawberry, peaches and cream, birthday cake... – Fuckin' _birthday cake_?!? Steve's right, the country really is going to hell in a handcart. ...Steve.

“Hey Logan, you seen Steve anywhere around?” 

“Your pretty boy?” Logan's got one of those cigars he likes, one of the big, stinky, cheap kind. He huffs out a noise that's part laugh, part cloud of horrible smoke. “You finally noticed you lost him, huh?”

Finally? Tony leans against the bar. The bar is very convenient, because his balance is still a little off. Even though it's been hours by now since he's had a drink. Probably. It occurs to him to wonder: “What the hell do you know about me and Steve, Logan?”

“Take it easy, mon ami.” That smooth voice coming from behind him is Remy LeBeau, isn't it? Is every single fuckin' X-Man in the entire city here tonight? Tony turns to look at him. Then he's sorry he did, when the bar ...doesn't turn along with him.

“You’re drunk off your ass, Stark.” Logan laughs out more smoke.

“I've got a right. – I say it again: What the hell do you know about me and Steve?”

Wolverine looks at him. He raises a fist. Just a little reminder: Don't piss off the guy with the adamantium claws. “You're drunk, so I'll ignore the rudeness, Stark. Maybe you don't remember, but you kind of told the whole party about you and Steve. Right before you told him to fuck off.”

“I didn't do that.” Oh fuck, he did.

“Grimm took Steve back to your place. Maybe if you're lucky, he's still there. He strikes me as the kind to give a guy a second chance.”

Yeah, he is.

“You know it's not my place.” More smoke from that goddamn cigar. Christ, Wolverine's lungs must look like the Black Hole of Calcutta by now. Does a body that's half adamantium protect you from getting cancer? “You should stop throwing away everything good that you get, Stark. There was that redhead you were with before. A classy lady. What was her name?”

“Pepper. Pepper Potts.”

“Now Steve? Not to mention the suit: You keep flying when you're blind-drunk, you're going to crash and burn someday. There'll be nothing left of you or your suit.”

“You're right.” Tony balls his fists. Adamantium claws? Screw that. They probably won't leave a scratch on the suit. “It is none of your business. I know the suit just fine, and I know what it can do. I know Steve too. He'll be there. You stay the fuck out of it.”

Tony leans away from the bar. The floor ...doesn't lean too much to one side when he does it. It's time to go home, way past time. And Steve _will_ be there. – He will, won't he? -- And he'll let Tony apologize. ...How much apology do you need, when you've fucked up as bad as he has tonight?


	12. The Guilt Feelings of a Lit-Up Action Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to make amends, the morning after Johnny's party, but things get in the way. Including his own big mouth. -- Edit.

What time is it? It's got to be like 4:00 in the morning, or 3:00 in the morning maybe. Tony feels like his head just hit the pillows. Now all of a sudden there's this bright _light_ shining in his eyes, and all this fuckin' _noise_ , that makes him feel like his head's about to explode. “Steve?” Tony pulls a pillow over his eyes. It doesn't help. Now his head's going to explode, and he's going to suffocate. “You mind turning the light off?”

The noise from the other room stops, and Tony realizes he was hearing the shower. “Is this some kind of punishment?” he says weakly. “Because I made you go to that party last night?”

“If I was going to punish you...” – Steve stomps back into the room wet-headed, with a towel around his waist. – “It wouldn't be for that, Tony.”

Then what would it be for? How's a person supposed to figure out these cryptic messages at 4:00 in the morning? Tony squints through the blinding light and makes out the bedside clock. Oh, it's 7:00. Memories start to come back. He called Steve “boring”, didn't he? And told him to “fuckin' go home.” Shit.

Steve's wearing the Captain suit again, and he looks good enough to eat in it (if Tony wanted to eat anything right now), sort of like a big, blond-haired, blue-eyed Rocket Pop. He should come over to the bed and they should cuddle. He should at least sit down so Tony can apologize properly. But instead, he's stomping around the room. His hair's combed. It's full of that old-school greasy stuff he uses, Vitalis or something it's called, that always makes Tony want to run his fingers through it and mess it up good. Only he's not sitting down so Tony can do that.

“I know I fucked up.” Well if Steve won't come to Tony, Tony's got to go to Steve, right? He's up and out of bed right as Steve heads for the elevator. He's up, and ...Oh fuck, the floor's still moving around. And he's going to puke in a minute if he's not careful. How much did he _drink_ last night, anyway?

He catches up with him in the kitchen. ...The _kitchen_ , which smells disgustingly of _food_ , which is the last thing Tony wants to think about right now. Fortunately, there's coffee too. He could …maybe manage a cup of that right now. With like 100 aspirins. ...And a bullet to the brain.

“Steve, I'm sorry.” As Tony comes close enough to say it, Steve steps out of his way.

“Yeah, you said so last night.” He pulls a loaf of bread and some butter out of the fridge. – Oh god Steve, please don't _cook_ anything right now! The room already stinks. – “Save your breath, Tony. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you.”

Over to the toaster, then down goes the toast. Tony grabs for the coffee pot like a lifeline, anything to make him feel a little more human. “You knew. What did you know?”

“Please, Tony.” Steve gets a plate, a knife to spread the butter. Uggh, enough with the food already! “You've got kind of a reputation.”

A guy is not in the best negotiating position, when he's wearing ...Oh fuck, all he's got on are those _shorts_ of his, the ones he bought for Steve with the shield over the dick! ...When he's not dressed, and the other guy is. When the other guy's showered and clean, and looking all spiffy, and he's got just-out-of-bed hair, and the smell of last night's booze hanging around him. 

Tony goes over to the table, where Bruce is drinking coffee and reading the paper. “Morning, Bruce.” He gulps coffee. Then he looks up at Steve. “Reputation? Come on, Steve. You know half that stuff is lies.”

Up comes some toast. Scrape, scrape, scrape of butter, spreading greasily all over it. Down goes more bread. Christ, is Steve going to eat everything in the kitchen? After a long moment, “I know what I saw last night,” he says.

“Last night.” _Yeah, braniac, last night._ Mind-Tony takes over, and says all the things Steve isn't saying: _When you yelled out that you and Steve were dating to a lot of strangers, without asking him first, and then told him to 'fucking go home'. That last night._ Fuckin' Mind-Tony should know when to keep his goddamn mouth shut. Like fuckin' Real Tony. “Listen Steve, I'm sorry about last night.”

“Yeah, you told me.” Steve grabs his plate of toast and some coffee and comes to the table. “About twenty times. Last night. After you got in.”

Ouch. Also shit. Tony-the-Blabbermouth strikes again.

Steve bites into his toast like he's got a grudge against it. “You want to start apologizing all over again, it's going to have to wait. I have an appointment at 8:00.”

“Where?” Most of his coffee's in him now, and the room's ...at least sitting still again ...For the moment. He wouldn't lay any good odds for what would happen if he got up again. If Steve were any kind of a friend, he'd take some pity here, right? Even with all Tony's done? “Where are you going, so early this morning?”

“Someplace boring.” So much for compassion. So much for pity. “You wouldn't like it, Tony. It's for charity.”

“Oh come on, I'm not that bad.” Yeah he is. “I went to the USO thing with you, didn't I?”

Cold eyed look from the Captain of All That's Good and Decent, to the One That's Lower Than Worm Shit. “And you complained the whole day. Listen, Bruce doesn't want to hear _our_ argument. What happened happened, Tony. I just need to chalk it up as a learning experience. Apparently, Logan's right. You aren't capable of a real relationship.”

“You… You talked about me with Logan?” No wonder he was so pissy at the party.

“He talked about you with me. Said you do this kind of thing all the time. I played poker with him and LeBeau for a while, after you were so kind as to tell me to fuck off. I had to do something. I still thought you might want to go home with me.”

“I would have, Steve. But when I went to leave, I couldn't find you.” That and he'd sort of forgotten Steve was there for most of the night.

“Ben Grimm was sober. He gave me a ride.”

“Come on!” Natural defense. It's out of his mouth before he even thinks. “I fly just great when I'm drunk. Ask anybody.”

Steve shoves his chair back and stands. “Yeah. Right.”Coffee cup, empty toast plate, in the sink, and there goes Captain America, six feet of blond, muscled goodness, out of the kitchen, and over to the elevators to go. “Tell me all about it later, Tony. I have to be somewhere.”

Tony looks at Bruce. He's just a couple of hands, gripping the newspaper he's using to hide behind. “I really fucked up, didn't I?”

“Yeah.” Bruce's nose pokes out, followed by a pair of irritated brown eyes behind glasses. “Yeah, you did, Tony.” Then he's back behind the paper.

“You don’t have to be that honest!”

“You asked, didn't you,” Bruce says. “What did you expect me to tell you? And by the way, not everybody expects everyone to share all their drama, just because they happened to wake up at the same time. If you want any kind of a life at all Tony, you're going to have to stop letting your ego make all the decisions.”

Ego. Ouch. Tony shifts in his seat. “I’ve always appreciated your honesty…”

“And that’s why I don’t hold back. A relationship works both ways. Sometimes you give, sometimes  
you take. But you do a lot of taking, Tony, from me and from Steve.”

“Yeah.” Tony thinks about Steve, big and blond, built like some comic book artist's idea of a man. It's not the muscles that make him who he is though, is it? It's the warm, old fashioned heart inside. And the traditional American values, he learned when he was growing up in a traditional American home. Jesus Christ, Tony Stark's never going to be a traditional American like that, why did he even think he could make this work?

“More coffee.” He doesn't really want more coffee. He didn't want the coffee he had. It occurs to him suddenly that if his “fun” needs to be recovered from for a whole day, maybe he needs a new definition of fun.

“Hey listen Tony, I didn't mean to be so hard on you.”

“What?” 

Bruce is folding his paper, putting his dishes in the sink. “If you want to talk about this, I'm there for you, okay? Just not now. I'm due at the clinic at 8:00.”

“'I'm there for you, good-bye, I'm leaving.' Yeah, that makes total sense.” It ...doesn't come out the way it sounded in his head. Snark kind of merges into grumbling. Okay, maybe he does need that second cup of coffee.

Bruce's face is blank. “The whole world doesn't revolve around you, Tony.”

“I know. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry.”

“You want to talk right now?” Bruce sneaks a look at his watch. “I could manage ten minutes maybe... – Hell, I'll call the clinic. I'll get Dr. Chavez to see my first patient.”

_Talk_ about his problems? With somebody who's supposed to be his equal? With another member of the team? ...Another Avenger? Tony shakes his head. “I've always kind of handled things on my own.”

He hears Bruce's snort, but he doesn't look at him. “Yeah, you might want to re-think that.” 

There are footsteps, and then the elevator pings and then he's alone in the kitchen. Tony stares into his empty cup. There's a million things he could be thinking about right now. -- He wants to think about a million other things. – But his mind keeps going back to the Captain. Steve Rogers, the guy his father was always obsessed with finding. He grew up thinking about him as a grown-up like Dad, like if he ever did show up, he'd take his Daddy away even more than he was usually away, and there'd be no time left for Tony. Then when by the time he met him, Steve was actually _younger_ than he was... Younger and older, at the same time. Just out of the ice and a little bit lost, with that goofy, bemused grin of his that said. “there's so many things I don't understand about this world I'm in.” It was the first time he saw that grin that Tony fell for him, wasn't it? On the heli-carrier, when he said that about the flying monkeys. -- Is he really going to let him get away?

“I don't have any choice.” Tony says it to his coffee cup, which is the only thing there to listen. “I can't magically develop another whole personality just because I want to.”

“Oh really?” The voice at his side is so unexpected that Tony jumps. He turns and sees Loki with a cup of coffee in his hands, looking at him. “This coffee is burnt.” Loki eyes the cup, mouthing one of those little spells of his. Then he takes another drink and looks pleased. “I know many spells to change a man's personality. Why do you wish to change yours?”

“Jesus fuck, you scared the crap out of me. You mind not creeping up on people like that?” Tony regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth. Now Loki's probably going to creep up on him twice as much, just to fuck with him.

He watches the mischief light in those green eyes of his. Then it dies back down as fast as it started. Loki frowns. “Unlike some other people, I do not announce myself with thunderous sound whene'er I enter a room.” That one's aimed at his brother. Oh yeah, there's ...something going on between those two right now, isn't there? What was it... Tony looks down at his cup. Oh yeah right, it's empty. Fuck.

“You mind sharing a little magic coffee?”

For a moment, Loki's long-fingered hand hovers over his cup. Tony has just long enough to remember the story Thor told him, about Loki magicking a glass of wine into snakes. He's half expecting something to slither over the edge of his cup and look at him. Instead, all of a sudden the cup feels hot, and fragrant steam is curling up into his face. “Thanks.”

Loki gives a put-upon snort. “You are a _friend_. People still seem surprised when I show kindness to my friends.”

_People_. Meaning his brother again. Tony wonders what Loki would do if he asked him to stop obsessing over his brother until after breakfast. He takes a drink. “That's good coffee.” 

“Of course it is.” Loki sits down at the table. He sips more of his. “You didn’t answer my question. Why would you wish for another personality?”

Tony drinks coffee that tastes better than the stuff JARVIS makes fresh, right after Pepper's bought new beans. It sure as hell tastes better than the stuff Cap makes, who can never seem to figure out that whatever it was back in 1942, nowadays Folgers isn't “good to the last drop”... Oh god, Cap! “I was talking to myself.” 

“And I was listening. Your people used to worship the Aesir as gods, remember. They would pray to us...” Loki's face goes dreamy for a moment. Then it darkens. “To those who were much-revered, I should say. To All-Father, and to Thor. Sometimes a plea would go unanswered, and I would take it. The Trickster can give good gifts, whate'er others may think.”

There's that _others_ again. “Will you stop talking about Thor?”

Loki draws himself up. “I did not.”

Yeah he did. “You've been talking about him ever since you came in. What happened between you two anyway? You were getting along pretty well at the benefit the other night.”

Loki's face goes shut. It's weird how you can see it happen. The green eyes go blank, and all the mobility goes out of his face. He's like a carved, painted Loki-statue. “Thor is a fool. He makes poor decisions based on emotion. Planning is beyond him.”

Ri-iii-iiight. Tony takes a drink. The coffee really is very good. Plus it's making his brain clearer. Magic hangover-cure coffee. Loki's special recipe. “Maybe I missed the memo, but I don't think planning has much to do with love.”

“What are you talking about, Tony?”

It's a good question. What is he talking about? Him and Steve, right? Because he can't be talking about Loki and Thor. Loki's been trying to kill Thor practically ever since he's known him, and Thor's mostly been dragging him back and forth to Asgard in chains. Just for a minute it seemed like there was something... Like the two of them were connecting on another level... But it had to be the hangover messing with his thinking. Loki and Thor are brothers that hate each other. You meet them all the time on Earth, why not on Asgard too? “I'm talking about how good your coffee is. Seriously, you could patent this stuff. You'd kick Starbucks' ass.”

“My coffee.” Loki's voice softens. He stares into the distance. “The first time I tasted coffee it was because of you, Tony. Remember the coffee house on the corner? Is it still there?”

“You mean the one where you...” Tony swallows. “With the pecan pie lattes...” The picture comes into his head neat and tidy and perfect: All that dark hair, pulled back off her face, and the green eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. Those legs of hers... Those legs that seemed to go on and on forever... “It's there.” This is _not_ a conversation about Luca. He's not talking about Luca, and he's not thinking about Luca. And neither is Loki. They're just sitting here, talking about coffee. “Last time I was there, they had some new flavors of lattes.” ...Which he didn't look at because he wasn't thinking about Luca. ...And those tits of hers, he was just about to bury his face in, when goddamn Natasha showed up and told him about the Frost Giant invasion.

“I want a latte.” He's looking at Loki when Loki does it. He's looking at him, and it's so fucking weird he drops his coffee cup and all his coffee spills. One minute it's usual-Loki sitting there, with his hair still sticking up a little from sleep, and one of Tony's old t-shirts on (the one that says “Challenge Accepted”), and the next minute, he sort of _grows_... Everything about him just _changes shape_.

Luca's the class act she always was, with a brand new pair of heart-shaped sunglasses straight out of classic Hollywood. She looks over them and gives Tony a smile. Then she takes a sip of her coffee, and when she puts the cup down, there's lipstick on the rim. “Tony, what flavors? I am quite curious to try all of them.”

“You couldn't just go dressed as Loki.”

“What would be the fun?” Loki's hand comes up again. It's littler now, and there's a big, clunky ring, with a green stone in it, on one of the fingers. Tony feels a tingling, like ants are crawling all over him. Then as soon as it starts, it's over.

“What did you do to me?” Well that part's obvious if he thinks about it, isn't it? “You didn't make me a girl too?” Although it would be kind of interesting looking at his own titties if he did.

“Please.” Loki conjures a mirror, and Tony looks. He's got his jeans on, and he's wearing the Challenge Accepted shirt, and Loki's put a leather jacket on him that he pulled out of the magic fog somewhere, but it's soft and comfortable, and just the right amount of broken-in, so he's just going to keep it if he can, he thinks. “I could not go for coffee with someone wearing undershorts.”

“Undershorts... – Oh yeah right.” So much for magical hangover-cure coffee. Tony's brain feels like it's working at about 10% of normal speed. Like he's gotten a brain-virus somewhere. He probably opened a bad email. And there's Luca sitting across the table from him like every bad email he's ever gotten come to life, 110 pounds of pure danger, with her red lips curved in a challenging smile, and her sunglasses up to cover the even more challenging look in her green eyes. “That's right, I was wearing...” 

“Indeed you were, Tony. Not that they weren't cute shorts, but they were ... _inappropriate_. And your hair was...” – Just for a moment, Luca's little fingers are in his hair. Jesus Christ, if someone should walk in right now! – “... _untidy_. A girl has standards.” Luca stands up and a coat just sort of _appears_ on her. A really nice coat, with a green-and-black scarf hanging from the collar.

“We… shouldn’t go out.” Tony discovers that his mouth is dry. 

“Oh really? Why not?”

Why ...not? _Think, Stark: What was it you were just talking about? ...Before Loki came in?_ “Because Steve won't like it.”

“Ah yes, I'd forgotten.” Luca tosses her head, and shiny dark hair sort of avalanches across her shoulder. “The great Tony Stark has become another's handmaiden.”

“It's called being faithful.” That last word comes out as a squeak. “Which you wouldn't understand.”

Luca rummages in her very large green-leather purse. She pulls out some credit cards. Tony can just make out his name on one of them. “How many lattes can these buy, Tony? Enough to try all the flavors? You're not really going to make me drink them all alone?”

“If Thor were here...”

“Thor...” Luca's face goes closed. “He would geld me, as the Captain of the Americas has gelded you. They want, not us, Tony, but an illusion, obedient servants, who wear our faces, but serve their will alone.”

Huh? “That's not… how it works.” Jesus, he needs more hangover-cure coffee.

“Is it not, Tony? Do you deny that you've changed?”

No, he hasn't changed. He hasn't changed enough. That's why Steve is mad at him. Oh fuck. “It's called falling in love, Loki. People make concessions. I went to that stupid benefit of the Cap's, and he...”

“ _I_ am going for coffee.” Red lips, and a sultry voice that would put Dietrich to shame, and ...Did Luca's neckline just drop two inches? “The God of Chaos does not 'make concessions', and he does not change.” There's pride in the words, but there's something else as well. What is it? Loki almost sounds sad.

He's not going out for coffee with the hottest babe in Manhattan because she sounds sad. And because she's Loki. _Sit down right he-eee-eere, Loki. Tell me your pro-ooo-ooo-blems, Loki. I'll be Oprah for you, and you can be..._ Oh god, is she sexy. And broken-looking. And sexier because she's broken looking. All these years he's spent _not_ fucking the depressed girls, even when they threw themselves at him. What was he missing? ...Christ, it would be a good thing if someone came in here right now and said “stop”.

“We'll talk, Loki. We'll talk about you and your brother. ...Over lattes. Just give me back my credit cards, okay? The gentleman is supposed to pay.”

“But Tony,” – Luca's fingers touch his wrist. Her grip's just a little too tight, but her smile is sin and sophistication ...and danger, all wrapped into one. – “When were you ever a 'gentleman'?”


	13. Tony's the Sensible One for a Change, and Look What Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people can give advice and good stuff happens, and then there's Tony Stark.

When was the last time he was at the coffee place? Since Steve's moved in, he's been getting breakfast at home pretty much every day that he wants it. _Dammit Cap, why do you do that? Why do you have to get all tangled up with a guy's life like that? ...And then maybe leave?_ It's pretty much just like he remembered it: Same little round tables with the pictures laminated on them, same dusty, spiderwebby windows, same fragrance of hot, fresh coffee, coming from the counter. Luca walks in and it's like all the light that's coming in through the dusty windows finds her and sort of lights her up. It's the hair, Tony thinks, and then he thinks, no, it's all that white skin showing, above her low-cut top. Then he thinks no, it's just Luca.

She goes over to the counter and looks at the menu, then she turns and looks at Tony. “'Powerberries', what are those?” 

“They're shit that doesn't belong in a latte. Do they seriously...” Tony goes over, just to read the menu. At once, he's got Luca's hand on his arm, and yeah, it feels good. And yeah, when she snuggles closer to me, that feels good too. Only he's not with her, he's with Steve. **Dammit, he's _with Steve_!** ...Unless Steve's already dumped him...

“Seriously.” Luca's voice is amused, and a little bit smug. She thinks she's got him, damn her. Just because he's _here_ with her. Just because he's paying for her drink. What the hell is he supposed to do, let her pay for her drink, with his cards? “Also 'berries-and-creme', also pomegranate. – Oh, there's 'refreshing lime'. It's 'new for spring', I think I'll have that.”

“No you won't. Show some respect for the coffee, Loki ...uh, Luca.” --

She smiles and purrs a little when he says her name. _Dammit Thor, this is your fault. If you weren't brothers with the God of Chaos..._ –

“What would you suggest, Tony?”

“There's cinnamon...” 

Loki tosses her head (and all that silky, shiny hair of hers brushes Tony's cheek). “I've had that.”

“Caramel?”

“I shall have the 'powerberries',” Loki tells the barrista. “And I would like a scone... Make it one of the blueberry ones.” She pats Tony's arm like she owns him. “My 'friend' would like – What is it you like, Tony?”

“I won't have anything.” He knows it sounds grumpy. “We're going to sit down while you drink your crap-latte, and we're going to talk about Thor. – Ouch!”

Just the mention of the God of Thunder earns Tony a pinch, violent and cruel, and hard enough to draw blood.

“My _friend_ will have a Caffe Americano with extra espresso. – How much espresso would you like, Tony? Let us say three extra shots. You need to be woken up properly after last night when you acted so badly as to drive Steve away.” Loki smiles at the barrista, and she's sexy and sultry and gorgeous again. “Give him a sandwich too, something delicious, that will overwhelm his guilt.”

“I don't feel any guilt.” He still sounds grumpy. ...Grumpy, when he's out with this sleek, dark-haired temptress. He must look like the biggest idiot in the world. If anyone recognizes him, they'll think _where's the Tony Stark we all know and love?_

The barrista nods. “The usual for Mr. Stark.” He throws Tony a grin. “How you been doing? Long time no see. And a blueberry scone and a powerberry latte for Miss... Uh, for...”

“ _Luca._ ” She gives him that smile of hers that could melt steel.

“F-for Luca. – Got to say Mr. Stark, I always admired your taste in women.”

_Oh my friend, if you only knew..._

“I'm actually with someone now.” If he's going to do the boring, stuffy, conservative routine, he might as well do it right. “He's just ...uh, he's not here.” _...And maybe won't ever be again, depending if he'll forgive me for last night._

“Yeah?” That gets him a look. “I never pictured you settling down, Mr. Stark.”

_Yeah, that's the problem: Neither did I._

“We live and learn.” Tony watches the barrista disappear behind a cloud of steam, a cloud that's filled with the delicious smell of coffee and something weird as ass that must be the powerberries. Why did he come out with Loki? What could he have been thinking? It was because of what they have in common, right? Because they're both the ones with the chaos in them, so it makes sense he'd be the one Loki would open up to? Or was it because of his credit cards?

Their cups come out onto the counter. Oh, there's the plates: Loki's scone is shiny with sugar-overload, and his own sandwich looks ...Dammit, it looks just as tempting as Loki wanted it to be.

Loki sniffs her drink. “I am not entirely sure that _berries_ belong in coffee.”

“They don't.”

She takes a drink. “It is quite good though. Once again, taking risks has paid off.” Loki looks at him over her sunglasses. “You grow cowardly, Tony. Why? And why try to force this new-found cowardice upon me?”

Cowardly. Is it being cowardly to want a lasting relationship for a change? Is he supposed to keep on letting all the best people walk out on him for the rest of his life? Wasn't Pepper enough? “Maybe you didn't notice, I pissed Steve the fuck off last night, and now he won't even speak to me.”

“I noticed.” Loki snaps a bite of her scone with sharp, even little teeth. “You had _fun_ for a change. You acted natural, unlike the other night at the benefit.” She stares into her coffee, those dark-painted nails of hers, cradled around the white cup. Steam curls up around her face, fogging her sunglasses. “The Captain's boring, daily routine will kill you with predictability, Tony. You will die e'en sooner than is the wont with your race.”

“Life as a superhero is never predictable.” Standard, facile answer. For a moment, the picture in his head is Loki's picture: Muzzled, trained-Tony, stumbling obediently behind Steve with his rules and his expectations. Then he takes a gulp of coffee and his brain clears, and he remembers why he's here. “I don't want to live alone my whole life, Loki, and I don't believe you do either. Maybe I have to make some compromises, but it's worth it to keep Steve. Haven't you even thought about compromising for Thor?”

His hand's on Loki's little one. -- Just a friendly touch; it happens without him even realizing. – As soon as he notices it there, Tony yanks it away. Why? It's not like Steve's going to walk in here. ...He yanks it away just for no reason. So he can pick up his sandwich. He takes a bite: Bacon, and ham, and jalapenos, and double Pepper Jack. It's his usual, all right.

Loki looks at him through powerberry-steam. “Had I wanted a lecture, I'd have invited the Captain himself to breakfast. Look around you, Tony.” – She takes an elegant sip. – “There is no one here who would not fall all over themselves to do what I, or you, demanded.”

He's right. … She's right... _Whatever._ That blonde over by the window, the one with the briefcase, and the trench-coat that shows off her slim, flexible waist: What would happen if he went over and told her, “I'm Tony Stark. Ditch your boring day job and come with me...” Or the guy in the jeans and the camel's hair coat: He's throwing glances Loki's way right now. Suddenly Tony wants to hit him. 

“Go ahead, Tony.” Loki sounds very pleased. “I am with you, am I not? What right has he to look at me?” Her hand, with those bitten-looking nails that are the only non-perfect part of her is on his again. “Go ahead, _claim what is yours_.” 

It really sounds amazingly good. He'd be like, _I'm Tony fuckin' Stark. Keep your goddamn eyes off my woman._ And what would happen? He and Loki both know. Those pictures of Loki's come into his head again for a minute, and Tony's thinking about what's underneath the coat, and those tight, tailored-looking little jeans she's wearing. He's thinking about the time he _didn't_ get to see all of it, because Natasha showed up. ...And then he's thinking about what Bruce said, about walking in on Loki and Thor the other night.

“Yeah, you're with me,” he says. “But you're not mine, you're Thor's, you just haven't figured it out yet. And I'm Steve's, and if he dumps me over what happened last night, this is going to be the most fucked-up Christmas ever. You know why? Because this year I'll know what I'm missing.”

It makes sense. It makes so much sense, he almost can't believe he was the one who said it. Tony grabs his sandwich and he takes a big bite just so the jalapenos will get his brain oriented. “What's so bad about Thor, Loki? What does he want that you don't want to give?” _...Because you sure were giving him your all the other night..._ Tony eats more jalapenos to keep the last part from coming out. “Giving your all,” and “Loki” are two thoughts he doesn't want connecting in his brain, not with Loki looking the way he does right now.

“Mayhap he wants something that I am not willing to give.” Loki's brows draw together, and for a moment she's frowning. Then her face clears and she smiles again. She tosses her head. “You mortals are short-lived. As soon as I tire of one, another will come to take his place.” Pretty little bitten-nail hands spread. “The world is full of attractive mortals, Tony. You are the one who showed me that.”

Something more for him to get blamed for. Great. “What about The Avengers?” 

“What about them? I did not see you being excluded when your tastes ran to multiple partners. Why then, should I?” 

“Because...” It's a good question: Why? He is going to be though, because... “It’s because Thor's an Avenger too. He was... Well, he was never an enemy, and you were, so if people have to take sides...”

Loki frowns. Tony can't really blame her. But it's the truth, isn't it? If push comes to shove, who's the team going to side with, the ex-super-villain, or the Golden God from Asgard, Who's Friends with Everybody and Uses his Hammer Only for Good? 

“They barely accept me,” Tony says. “It's only because the Iron Man suit's so strong. Natasha wanted to keep me out because I wasn't a team-player. And I never was... Well, I never tried to...” _Destroy the earth and fuck us all over when we had to come to you for help..._ “I was never a super-villain.” Try saying that to an angry God of Chaos who's got all his powers back and could do anything to you. Tony squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, just in case Loki decides to turn him into a toad.

But all he gets is an angry snort. “I gave my aid to your _Avengers_ , and yet you say they would side with Thor rather than with me?”

“If you make us take sides. You don't have to, you know. You could...” – What's he supposed to do? What is it Pepper always told him to do, usually right after she'd clean up one of his messes? “Uh, you could be discreet.”

“And if I do not want to be?” Ice-edged words from the gorgeous goddess with the sunglasses and the long, dark hair.

“Why not? It's easy.” _No it's not._ “Just don't make us take sides.”

“Perhaps I will not.” In one fluid moment, Loki stands, and Tony can see every male eye in the place (and some of the female eyes) turn toward her. “Or perhaps I will, I have yet to decide.” Her hand goes into that big green bag of hers, and then Tony's credit cards fall, spattering the table-top. “You may tell your friends, Tony, to wait upon my decision.”

Then she's leaving? Tony stands. He gathers up his cards and then he stands. “You're not coming back to the Tower?”

“Not now.” Loki tosses her head. “Perhaps not ever. You remember, Tony: I do not need you and yours to provide accommodation.”

Yeah, he remembers. Loki could be anywhere, any time. He could be right in the next room with them, and nobody would know unless he wanted them to. And now he's walking out. – _She's_ walking out. – Oh fuck, is Thor going to be pissed.

“You should re-think this, Loki.”

“No.” Loki shakes her head. “You have helped me to understand something, Tony: With the Avengers as with All-Father's court in Asgard, I am welcome only upon my brother's terms. This is unacceptable to me.” One pretty little white hand touches his shoulder and Loki leans close. For a minute, he's brushed with all her gorgeous, fragrant dark hair. Then her lips touch his cheek and she leans back again. “Farewell, my friend. I would find the place where I am accepted for who I am, and not merely upon the Thunderer's sufferance. Mayhap, we shall meet again.”

But... “Loki, you can't leave.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, but she pulls free. “Not now. Not this close to Christmas.”

“Your mortal holiday.” She's away from the table and halfway to the door. “That began with the destruction of the Gods of Asgard.” Loki's voice is thin and sad, but her body's pure, polished female perfection. “I am not interested in such.”

Tap-tap of pretty high-heels. The door opens and Tony feels cold air blow in. Then she's gone, and all that's left is a lipstick-mark on her half-full latte, and a blueberry scone with one bite taken out of it. Oh shit. Thor's totally going to blame him for this.


	14. Things Just Keep Getting Worse at Avengers Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve doesn't _blame_ Tony, when Loki goes out and teams up with somebody else. He doesn't totally not-blame him, though.

His first Christmas in the Twenty-First Century was kind of depressing. He was SHIELD's pet oddity, the next guy after the Hulk, that all the military brass wanted to experiment on, and it was just Director Fury standing in the way keeping that from happening. And yeah, he was already an Avenger by Christmas, but what did that mean? They'd fought Loki and the Chitauri to a standstill, they were a team, sort of, but more the kind of team where you got together to do a job, then you all went your separate ways again afterward. It took the Enchantress Amora, and her manipulations in New Mexico, that whole thing with the balance of the realms (which Steve never totally understood) and the Frost Giant invasion, to really bring them together.

Bruce got so he was relaxed enough with all of them to act like a friend, which felt like a real accomplishment. And Thor came around enough times so he started to be a friend as well. Even Loki was getting along with everyone pretty well, by the time they put down the Frost Giants. And Tony...

God, how do you describe a guy like Tony? On the outside, he's Mr. Perfect. He's got everything, the fast cars, the beautiful women, the excellent suits and the taste in gourmet food and fine liquor. He's like James Bond, in the old Sean Connery movies Steve and Bruce watch sometimes at night (that still feel _modern_ to him, even though they're 40-years old in this world). But inside, he's a little kid. He wants what he wants, right now, and he doesn't have a clue about patience, or working to make a good thing better. Take that party of Johnny Storm's: There Tony was, sick as a dog with something that really looked more like the flu than a cold. He should have gone straight home to bed after the benefit, but instead he _had_ to go to that party. And he immediately got drunk, because he hadn't eaten anything all day, and then he proceeded to act like the world's biggest jerk.

And then the next day, ...something happened. Something with him and Loki. Tony's description is kind of garbled. He went out with Loki, he says. ...With Loki when he was in Luca-form. He said “no” to her. – Steve hopes he said “no”. Tony's ...not real good at resisting temptation. – She got mad and left. Then there's something about credit cards that Steve doesn't quite understand, and something else about Thor being more of an Avenger than Loki is.

Thor more of an Avenger? Please! That makes NO sense. Thor's got responsibilities in Asgard, they all know that. He's Odin's heir. It would be like taking the Prince of Wales out of England and keeping him in Washington DC, to make Thor stay around and be a full member of The Avengers. Whereas Loki's just his kid brother. – He's not even his brother, just his adopted brother. – Odin doesn't need him for anything, and he wants to be an Avenger... He _wanted_ to be an Avenger. Then Tony said something to him and he got mad and left. Now he's gone, and nobody's seen hide nor hair of him in over a week, and Thor's just about breaking his heart over it.

And Tony's kind of glum (for him) as well. He's been on his very best behavior ever since Storm's party. He's always ready to do what Steve wants to do, and to go where Steve wants to go. But Tony being good just isn't Tony. It's like his spirit's broken when he can't be a jerk any more, and being around him makes Steve feel guilty. 

And Bruce is always off with Pepper Potts. It's nice to see him with someone in his life for a change, Steve's not going to deny that, but it's getting kind of ...depressing around the Tower these days. What with Thor moping, and Tony acting guilty all the time ...and Loki gone, Steve gets to where he's desperate to be with somebody in a good mood for a change. He finds himself turning on TCM in the evenings and watching Fred Astaire marathons, and Judy Garland marathons... Even Shirley Temple marathons, anything that's cheerful, to try and block out the mood of the place. It's _depressing_ is what it is, and it looks like his second Christmas in the Twenty-First Century may not be any better than the last one.

And the 22nd of December comes. Steve's been doing benefits and TV appearances all week, but today he doesn't have anything until afternoon. He gets a leisurely morning for a change. He's up before Tony ( _Of course_. Even guilty-Tony hates getting up in the morning) and he goes out into the kitchen to make something good for breakfast, after a week of toast-and-coffee-and-then-out-the-door. Bruce is there (he always gets up early), with a newspaper open on the table, and a cup of what smells like instant coffee in front of him.

Steve sets the Folgers brewing. He opens the fridge: There's half a dozen eggs in there, left over from when Tony made him an omelet (full of weird, chopped up herb-y things) on Sunday, and an unopened pack of bacon. He pulls them out, then gets out the flour and milk and baking powder.

“Have time for breakfast?”

Bruce nods. “I'm meeting Pepper, but not until 12:00. All I have to do is make sure I'm hungry again for lunch.”

“Nice.” Crack-crack go the eggs, then in go the dry ingredients. Beat, beat, beat, then over to the stove to start the bacon. The rhythm feels good. It's relaxing, sort of blocks worry out of his mind.

Steve looks over at Bruce, who looks like he's got a light on inside him, like he's happy for the first time in a long time. It's a weird change; before, he was always the one of them who _wasn't_ happy. “You really like Pepper, don't you? You think there's a future for the two of you?”

Bruce shrugs. “A future? What does that even mean?” He looks at Steve. “I'm glad you and Tony are getting along again. – You _are_ getting along again, right?”

Sizzle-sizzle-sizzle. The air in the kitchen's starting to smell really good about now. Steve tests the pan for the pancakes, then pours some batter. “Yeah, we're getting along. ...It's not Tony's fault that Loki left. I wish he'd stop acting like he's got to make up for it. He keeps making me all this French food. – I didn't like French food when I was in France during the War. – And yesterday he brought Thor this stuff called lutefisk because he said it was Norse food... I thought we'd never get the smell out of the kitchen.” He flips the pancakes. “How many of these do you want?”

“Three I guess, maybe four.” Bruce helps out by getting the syrup out of the refrigerator. He puts it in the microwave: Hot syrup in less than a minute, now there's a real improvement over Steve's time. “Tony loves you a lot,” he says. “Otherwise he wouldn't be trying so hard to fix things with you. He never tried nearly this hard with Pepper, just maybe once or twice...” His voice breaks off. “Yeah, we've talked about it some. I'm sorry. It was just hard not to. Pepper says she's really glad Tony's got someone who cares about him in his life now.”

“He'd better hope I stay in his life...” Steve shoves the sharp spatula under the cooked pancakes hard, as if it's cutting off his words. “No, I don't mean that.” Paper towels on a plate so it's ready for the bacon, which is just about crisped enough to be really good. “He's such a smart guy, but he can be a real idiot.”

“Who's an idiot?” Tony's voice coming into the kitchen is a surprise. He grabs one of the slices of bacon Steve's just set to drain, and dips it into the warmed syrup and takes a bite, which is a really Tony-move. Then he comes over and puts his non-bacon hand on Steve's shoulder and gives him a tender kiss, which really ...isn't. “Can't be me for a change anyway. I got this self-help book ...on tape. I've been playing it while I'm in the workroom. I'm up to Chapter Three by now.” He turns around and grabs one of Bruce's pancakes off his plate and dips that into the syrup too, and even though it's really annoying, it's such a Tony thing to do, that Steve can't get mad at him.”

Besides, there are more cakes just about ready. Steve rolls his eyes. “You want some pancakes of your own, Tony?”

“Oh, were those for somebody? I'm sorry, Cap. Who do I have to apologize to? Were they yours? Bruce's? Bruce, I'm sorry, dude.”

Steve's just sliding Bruce's filled plateful in front of him. “No big. These are fresher anyway.”

Tony looks at Steve with the spatula. He watches him fill another plate. “Listen, why don't you let me take over? You go ahead and sit down and eat.”

Tony _can_ cook, usually his own weird, super-gourmet French food. But he's really making a mountain out of a molehill here. Steve wonders whether he should fight it or just go along to save argument. “Fine, sure.” He takes the plateful of new cakes and sits down with Bruce at the table.

After that, there's no sound except the two of them eating, and Tony's off-key humming at the stove. Then, unexpectedly, a voice breaks in: “Mr. Stark, there is a message you need to hear. Please turn to CNN _now_.”

It's his AI talking, the robotic house-manager that Tony calls JARVIS.

“That's weird,” Steve says. “JARVIS doesn't usually talk unless you talk first.”

“He's in emergency mode,” Tony says through a mouthful of pancakes. “Why would he be in emergency mode about CNN? I could see if it was Comedy Central...” He's already wiping syrup off his fingers and opening his laptop as he talks. Push-push on a couple of buttons: Steve sees the picture of him and Tony together at the Statue of Liberty that Tony uses as his background. Then he sees the page with the Google logo that means Tony's accessed the internet. “Goddammit,” Tony says. “This is taking fuckin' forever.” 

It's hard not to get tense. “JARVIS,” Steve asks, “what’s on CNN?” But there's no answer.

Tony's typing. He pushes a button and Steve sees the logo: “CNN, Breaking News,” on the computer screen for a minute. Then Tony clicks again and the page opens as a midair hologram so all of them can see.

There's a red bar at the top of the page, with white letters scrolling: “Important announcement from Dr. Doom of Latveria.” Underneath, in a box like a TV screen, video is already running.

“Good morning Avengers.” Doom's voice booms, arrogant, English-accented, a little metallic-sounding. “I, Dr. Doom, have an announcement to make.”

“He sounds happy.” Tony's muttered voice. “And when Doom's happy...” _...Nobody else is going to be happy._ He doesn't have to finish the sentence. 

“I have decided to join forces with a being of the greatest strength and determination.” Underneath the armor, Doom almost looks like he's smiling.

“The Silver Surfer,” Bruce blurts. “Galactus? Magneto?”

“I was planning to tell you in person, my esteemed enemies, but the news is too joyful to postpone.” Doom gestures, and the camera pans, and they're looking at Loki, standing next to him. “One of your own has chosen to renounce you and ally with me instead. May I present: Loki of Asgard. Ah, but you know him already, don't you? You know his abilities. They are at Doom's disposal now, to use as I – And he... – think best.”

“He's practically preening.” Steve swallows, as coffee and pancakes rise in his throat. 

“Yeah, Doom's good at that.” Tony stares at the screen. “But what's up with Loki? Why's he there? – Where is 'there', anyway?”

“Latverian Embassy.” Bruce points to the caption at the bottom of the video. “It's not far from here, on Bowling Green, overlooking the river.”

“I've seen it.” Tony’s still staring at the video, but it doesn't look like he sees it. “Creepy-ass looking place. I heard he had a Latverian castle moved here stone by stone.”

The video's ended, leaving a still shot of Doom, with one armor-clad hand on Loki's shoulder. Doom looks happy (as happy as a guy can look in full-body armor), and Loki? There's an angry, challenging look on his face. He looks like he did during the Chitauri Invasion, Steve thinks, only a little less crazy. What he doesn't look, is happy.

“I broke him,” Tony says. “He was our ally, now he's with Doom. – He's got all his powers back, and he's with Doom... Fury's going to be pissed.”

He didn't “break” him, he talked to him, Steve thinks. Loki made his own choices. He wonders if he should tell Tony that, but shouldn't he know it already? He's a grown-up. He shouldn't have to have everything explained to him.

Bruce is up out of his seat. “Thor needs to see this.” He's right, Steve thinks. If anybody needs support right now, it's Thor, who really thought he had a chance at a relationship with Loki, just for a little while, before he walked out on him and on all of them.

A minute goes by, then another one. Steve realizes he's just standing there staring at the still picture of Doom and Loki. He looks over at Tony, who's also staring. He's got his arms folded and a frown on his face. 

A couple more minutes, and the elevator doors ping, and the big Asgardian comes into the kitchen. He's wearing the pink-bunny pajamas Tony gave him, and his hair's still tousled from sleep. “My friends,” he says. “You have news of my brother?”

“Not good news,” Tony says. “Listen, I'm sorry...”

Thor is already looking at the holographic image of his brother and Doom. He turns to Tony and he frowns. “What news, I say? Show it to me.”

Tony clicks. “It's not as bad as it looks.”

The video's already playing. “Silence,” Thor thunders.

Steve watches it again. This is the part they _haven't_ seen: A news reporter-lady, her accent Eastern European: She says something about “the Supreme Ruler of Latveria has a message,” then the scene changes to Doom's throne room inside the Embassy. The video's only about three minutes long, but it feels like it's crawling by. After a while, Steve goes over and puts his hand on Tony's shoulder. “Stop worrying,” he says. “Loki makes his own decisions.”

Short jerk of a nod from Tony. Then there's a glare from Thor, and Steve shuts up so he can watch.

“This 'Dr. Doom'...” Thor turns to the rest of them after the video's over. “He is connected with the Doom-bots you have spoken of battling?”

“He makes 'em.” Tony nods. “Uses 'em as a private army. Mostly he attacks the Fantastic Four, but you know, sometimes it spills over.”

Thor looks at them. “Why would my brother associate with such?”

Why indeed? It's an awkward question. Steve looks around at the others. What are they supposed to say? _Your brother already allied with one super-villain, don't you remember? ...He tried to take over the Earth?_

“It's my fault.” Tony steps forward. “Remember I said we talked, Thor? I told Loki...” He swallows. “I said not to make us take sides, because if we had to... That we'd...” Another swallow. “I said we were your friends before we were Loki's friends, Thor. – Dammit, I'm not good with feelings and shit.”

“You said...” Thor's face darkens. “Tony, it is good we are friends, for it means I will forgive your cruel words to my brother. He has fought at my side. – At all our sides. – He is a shield-mate to all of you, as well as to me. How dare you e'en suggest that he might be rejected?”

Stirring words. As for how true they are? Steve swallows. He wonders if anyone else is thinking about Agent Coulson. Or Clint. Or Dr. Selvig. “Don't be too hard on Tony, Thor.”

“I will go and speak to my brother.” Thor looks around at them. “He wants not this...” He gestures at the screen, and Doom's smug, masked face. “...This alliance with evil. My brother has changed,” he says. “Like me, he has chosen to defend Midgard against its enemies. He should be supported by you, my comrades. – By all of us.”

“I'll go with you.” Bruce steps forward. “I uh... The Other Guy knows Doom. He doesn't like him much. -- You can't just walk into the Latverian Embassy, Thor.”

“I can and I will.” Thor looks at his waist, where Mjolnir usually rests. Only of course he's still wearing those bunny-pajamas of Tony's. “I will change clothes and then I will go. And I will go alone. Loki is not a foe, I will not face him as such.”

Steve looks at the others. Loki might not be a foe – He _might_ not... – but there's no doubt about Doom. 

Tony looks back at him. “We stay close by, right?”

“Right.” Bruce nods. “Dammit Tony, if you hadn't opened your big mouth...”

More guilt for Tony, who ...doesn't really do guilt very well. Steve watches him turn away, his face a blank. This one isn't even really his fault. He can't help it if Loki decides to be touchy about his past as a super-villain. He hurries to catch up with him, but Tony's already over at the elevator, probably going to get the newest-model suit from his workroom.


	15. You Can't Just Walk Into the Latverian Embassy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor can. And he does. Once there, he must get past the implacable Dr. Doom, in order to see Loki.

His friends are across the street from the Embassy, partaking of the wares of a coffee merchant, whom Tony lauds highly. They have requested that Thor wear a Midgardian listening device when he goes in to meet with Loki and Dr. Doom. – Tony calls it “wearing a wire”, although there is more than _wire_ to the device. – Thor has agreed, not because he believes he will need their help, but to save them more worry. As for himself, he trusts his brother. Loki has spoken to him from the heart. He is in concord with Thor about protecting and caring for their friends here on Midgard. The only place where their opinions differ...

It breaks Thor's heart, but he must admit the truth: Where the difference lies, is that he would have the love of Loki, and he does not. He has tried to be brother to him, he has tried to be more than brother. Each time, he was rejected. It is time for the Thunderer to face reality: Loki does not share the love he feels for him. Mayhap if he accepts this and behaves appropriately, they can be shield-mates at least.

The Latverian Embassy is a dark, foreboding building. It reminds him of the dwellings in the grim, ice-clad realm of Jotunheimr, which seem designed for intimidation, rather than for the comfort of those who live in them. Rough-hewn stone towers above the street, lighted devices, “surveillance cameras”, Tony has called them, follow his every motion from just below the eaves. At the door, the small button called the “doorbell”, makes an ominous sound, like the tolling of a funeral bell, rather than the cheery “ding-dong” he's heard at other Midgardian homes. 

The door is opened by a grey-bearded man, aged as none are aged on Asgard, where Fair Idunn shares her bounty of apples with them all. He peers at Thor, his gaze unwelcoming. “Who are you to beg audience of Lord Doom?”

“Good morrow to you, gaffer.” It comes ill for Thor the Thunderer, son and heir of All-Father, to make appeal to such as he, much less to his villainous master Dr. Doom, but they control access to his brother, do they not? And Thor needs this last chance to make reparations to Loki, for the hurt he has caused him in the past. “I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. I would speak to my brother Loki, who is a guest of Lord Doom's.”

No change on the aged retainer's face. He does not smile, e'en his eyes do not move, but remain fixed on a point a little below Thor's brows. “Lord Doom has no appointments today.”

Is this man or machine? Tony has spoken of Doom surrounding himself with machines, rather like Tony himself, with his JARVIS, and in the workroom, the two malfunctioning robots, Dum-E and U. Except that with Tony, the intent seems to be to have companionship even when there are no humans to provide it. With Doom, so his friends say, it is a disdain for his fellow humanity that drives the choice. Thor studies the serving-man. His behavior is strange, albeit his mien is that of any mortal. 

“Pray do not make a battle of this,” he says at last, “for I will pass, whether by your mercy or through the might of mine own right arm.”

Still, the man's face does not change. “None may pass, so says Lord Doom.” 

Thor's hand goes to his belt, touching Mjolnir's handle. Must he use the weapon on so aged an opponent? 

I do not come to disturb my brother, or Lord Doom.” Thor thinks of his father, and of how Odin spoke gently in the face of Laufey's aggression. “I pray only that you will bear my request to them: I need make apology to my brother, for my earlier actions, and after that I will leave him alone.” It is all he can do, is it not? Father has told him many times, that if he is responsible for his own actions, ofttimes it will lead to a good response. Now he must put that into action. Thor bows his head, clasps his hands meekly in front of him. Almost, he kneels, but this is too much humiliation surely, to require of a son of Odin.

The serving-man's face does not change, but when he speaks again his voice is the deep, metallic one Thor remembers from the video he watched at the Tower. It is Doom's voice, so this must be a machine after all. “You speak well, Thor of Asgard. Doom has decided to grant your request.”

He swings the door open, finally stepping aside to let Thor pass. Behind him is a dark hallway, dimly lit with torches (these bearing, not flames, but the glass electrical devices called “lightbulbs”). Thor sees tapestries and paintings, pictured eagles, and wreathed “D”s, and on one wall, the portrait of a dark-haired man in a green cloak, staring out at the world with arrogant, green eyes.

At the end of the hallway, another set of doors. “You are to be commended for your humility, Thor of Asgard.” The serving-man (or Doom-bot) opens the doors. “You may enter.”

This new room resembles a throne room. Thor thinks of his father's in Asgard, but that is brilliant with gold and crimson beauty. This one instead, is decorated in grim, dark colors. Only the golden throne at the far end catches the light, no doubt so it may better draw the eye to it, and to its inhabitant, the armored man who calls himself Dr. Doom. He sits there at his ease, one hand raised in greeting. “Your brother did not lead me to expect humility of you, Thor. I am pleasantly surprised.” 

Thor looks around. Loki is nowhere to be seen. Why not? Is it at Doom's wish or his own? He would speak, demand audience with Loki, but he forces himself to hold back, remembering Odin's manner with Laufey.

“You wish to speak with your brother?” Doom says. “Loki told me that you would. He said that you have ordered his life for him up until now, and would react poorly to this decision of his own.” He gestures toward a second, smaller chair, placed near his throne. “Please take a seat. May I offer refreshment? We have much to talk about, before I, Doom, decide if you will see your brother.”

The seat is lower than Doom's. It comes ill for a son of Odin to sit so, below one who is not only of inferior rank, but a mortal as well. His humility has served well thus far, however. He has reached Doom's presence without using force, an accomplishment his friends had not expected. Thor nods, and takes the seat. “I thank you, Doom of Latveria.” He hesitates. The offer of refreshment is a more troubling one. Many are the reasons for not accepting food and drink from those who hold themselves as foes. However, Loki is a guest here. Surely he would not accept house room from one with such ill intentions for his brother. “As for your hospitality, Doom of Latveria, I thank you, and will take the refreshment you offer.”

A hollow, clanking sound from the masked man is just discernible as one of amusement. “Your brother spoke of your innocence, but you are not quite the fool he thinks you. It would be of no benefit to me to tamper with your drink. None of Earth's more obvious poisons will harm an Asgardian. And why should I bother searching my extensive knowledge for something more effective, when that would only anger your brother? He is fonder of you than he thinks, Thor.” 

Fonder... What is being implied?

Doom signals and a servant detaches himself from the shadows. -- Thor’s heart rises, thinking it might already be Loki, but no, it’s the same serving-man as before, or rather, a similar one, a copy perhaps. How many of these artificial servants are there? – The servant leaves the room, and returns quickly with a decanter. He pours and offers glasses, first to Doom and then to Thor, then disappears again, as soundlessly as he arrived.

“The Tokay is a traditional wine from the vineyards of Southern Latveria. I hope you will find it to your taste.” He raises his glass and drinks. 

Thor, for his part, does the same. The wine is mead-sweet. It does not taste like it has been poisoned.

“Your brother,” Doom continues, “is an interesting man.” His gaze rests on Thor. Despite the mask, it is a penetrating one. “He is intelligent, and courageous.”

Thor nods. “Well I know of Loki's good qualities. I pray you, I would see him now, Lord Doom.”

Another laugh, harsh, metallic. “But if he doesn't want to see you? Or if I choose not to allow it?” Doom raises a mailed hand. “I am the gatekeeper to Loki. Indulge my curiosity, Thor. Tell me about Asgard, and about the All-Father.”

Thor counsels himself patience. This man is toying with him, but he has to be careful. Doom is powerful, and very, very dangerous. This could be a trap for him, or it could be a trap for Loki. He must indulge Doom for now and answer these questions, which seem to have so little to do with the purpose of his visit. “My Realm is one of eternal summer. The people there live under the beneficent, all-knowing reign of my father Odin.”

“You are immortal, are you not?” Doom interrupts. “Loki spoke of apples...”

“The golden apples of Idunn.” What all has Loki been telling Doom, he wonders? How many of Asgard's secrets? “They are not the source of our immortality, but of our eternal youth.”

“Yes, yes, so Loki told me.” Again, Doom interrupts. “He told a story. Something about his stealing them and the rest of you sinking immediately into old age?” Doom laughs softly. “Really, it amazes me that you trusted him for so long.”

It was not the apples he stole but Idunn herself, and only after being forced by Thjassa the Giant. “Loki was also the one who rescued Fair Idunn, and returned her to her orchard home.” Thor speaks the words more to himself than to Doom.

A clanking snort from Doom. “Always an excuse, isn't there? – Loki told me he did not know the source of Asgardian immortality. Do you?”

Thor shakes his head.

“I thought not. No matter. What would be the effects, if a human were to eat one of those apples, Thor?”

Doom keeps firing his questions. It's a conscious strategy, isn't he? He is trying to wear him down. But to what purpose? 

“One of the apples?” Thor feels his way. “You would taste an apple from the Lady Idunn's orchard?”

“It would be a stopgap I am sure.” Doom waves a hand. “How about reproduction? Have your kind ever mated with humans, Thor? What was their offspring's lifespan?”

“Their...” What is Doom asking? Thor frowns. “How dare you ask such questions?”

“Petty minds take offense at petty things. – You have told me what I wanted to know, Thor of Asgard. You know less than Loki, exactly as he said you would, and what knowledge you have is clouded by emotion. Nothing is left now but the negotiation. I ask one of Idunn's golden apples, in return for your visit with your brother.”

_Negotiation_? Thor fights back his anger. Who is this man, to set rules for him speaking with his own brother? Unless... Has Loki – Can Loki have allowed him this right? “Lord Doom...” He swallows, choosing his words with care. “Tell me pray, is this your choice or my brother's?”

“That is irrelevant.” His host waves a mailed hand. “In Doom's realm, there are only Doom's choices. Your brother knew that when he allied himself with me.”

He did not, Thor thinks, he could not have done. But there was his earlier alliance, with the Being called Thanos: Loki has told him of the terror of the Void, and of the vile manipulations Thanos used when he came to him, to force the alliance. Is there something like that here? And if so, what is it that Loki flees, that would make alliance with Doom seem attractive?

“I beseech thee, Lord Doom...” – All-Father would be pleased; Thor's words are those of a diplomat. – “Pray do not taint your hospitality with conditions. I come here as a friend, not as an enemy. I would see my brother unconditionally. ”

The eyes behind the iron mask narrow to mere slits. Even though the mask, Thor can feel disapproval, like a wave, wash over him.

“Thor of Asgard, now you show your real colors, don’t you? By what right do you seek to set aside the authority of a sovereign on his own soil?” Doom snorts. “By the strength of your mighty hammer? By the authority of your Father Who Is in Heaven? Doom laughs at these. I will match my strength against yours, if that is your desire, Thor. You will be the loser, and go limping back to Father Odin in shame. Come Thunderer: The craft of diplomacy is one of negotiation. Is it out of your reach to give me what I ask? Does Father Odin deny you access to the apples?”

It is not Odin who controls the apples, but Fair Idunn herself, and they are not a commodity to be traded, but a gift, as though she gives part of herself when giving them. How is he to communicate such to this materialist... – No, say rather, _why_? Why should a Son of Odin lower himself so?

There is silence between them while Thor wars with himself. He can get what Doom demands, but at what cost to his pride, his dignity? Must he go crawling to Lady Idunn and explain to her that a mere weak mortal has commanded that he fetch one of her apples before he is allowed simple audience with his brother? What will he see in her face when he says such, will it be amusement there, or pity?

“I grow tired of waiting, Thor.” Doom's voice cuts into his thoughts. He raises a hand. “Perhaps my servant should see you out.”

“It is my brother's choice where he will stay, and with whom he will ally.” Thor bites his lip, choosing his words carefully. Who is he placating here, is it Doom or is it Loki? Is there even any difference between them now, or are their wills allied? “I will not question that and, if it be necessary for me to see him, yes, I will bring what you demand, Lord Doom.” He can see it already, Idunn's questioning expression, and the amusement he will see on his friends' faces. E'en All-Father: Will he respect his son for being willing to compromise, or judge him for giving in so easily?

“It is not necessary.” The voice comes from behind Doom. Thor looks up: In back of the throne, where there were only shadows before, now he catches the flash of gold-and-green that is his brother's armor. Loki steps forward. “Thor, whose words were you speaking?” There is emotion in his voice, but _what_ emotion is it? Thor is not sure. “Were they yours or were they All-Father's? -- On whose behalf do you come here?”

There he is, the man he loves. How beautiful he looks, Thor thinks, with his sharp features emphasized by the golden, horned helmet he wears, and his green eyes dark with emotion. How badly he wants to run to him, to throw his arms around him and give him the kisses he's held back for so long. Doom is watching, he knows, but he cares not for the Latverian ruler. What holds him back instead, is his doubt about his brother's feelings.

“On no-one’s behalf but my own, Loki.” Thor scarce whispers the words. “I come on my own, and I speak only words from my own heart.”

A snort in the background serves to remind him of Doom’s existence. “His heart...” He echoes the words with condescending scorn, but it is not his response that matters here.

“From your heart, yes, Thunderer.” Loki’s voice is cool, but this is not the sharp, cruel tone he reserves for his enemies. That is something, is it not? “For it is always about you, isn't it? You are the golden son of Odin, and what am I? Naught save a vassal, in your eyes and in All-Father's.”

“You are no vassal, Loki, but a valiant warrior.” Thor looks into Loki's eyes. He offers himself, naked and vulnerable. “You are my shield-brother, and that of our friends The Avengers. If that is all you would be, I accept your decision, for all I would be more to you than that. I am not here to command you, but only to make appeal.” He gestures, indicating Doom. “Would you really desert our friends to serve this man?”

“You question me.” Loki speaks quickly, as if he was expecting Thor's words. “Think you that I know not my own mind, because my decision is not the one you would have me make?”

“Loki's decision has been made.” Again, Doom speaks unregarded. Thor is thinking of what he will say, and Loki is watching him.

“Know this, brother.” When Thor speaks, it is haltingly, for he would have Loki recognize his sincerity. “I am not as good with words as you. And perhaps I have never understood your true heart. When we stood side-by-side brother, to defend Midgard's capitol from the Jotnar, I saw joy in your eyes. And I saw happiness there afterward, when you returned to our midst at the pizza merchant's shop. Do you wish to turn away from that, brother? To serve this man, who boasts of his alliance with you, and calls us his foes?”

Thor hears the faint sound of armor shifting. Doom grows restive. Loki however, is still. “And if I do?” His words are very, very soft.

“Then I will depart from here.” Thor looks toward the door. “I will honor your choice, Loki, e'en if it were not my own.”

From the throne, there is a clanking sound, as Doom rises. “You speak beautifully, Thor of Asgard, and yet, in the end, your words are meaningless. Loki and Doom have allied. Your brother is not leaving here.”

“No, Victor?” Loki turns from Thor toward the tyrant of Latveria, and now, now Thor sees some of the menace he remembers from when his brother led the Chitauri. “You would command a son of Odin?”

Just for the tiniest moment, a mere fraction of a second, something flashes in those eyes, the only visible part of Doom’s body, covered as it is, in that armor of his. It’s a hint of… fear? Mayhaps it is anger? He is not used to being challenged, Thor thinks, not even by his allies.

“Command? No.” Doom’s voice however, is smooth, bare of any emotion. “An ally of Doom's is worthy of more respect than that.”

“And yet you interfere in my meeting with my brother. Pray allow us to talk uninterrupted, Victor.” A note of sarcasm enters his voice. “As a sign of _respect_.” Loki turns, and Thor is viewing his face full-on again. Again, there is that emotion in his eyes, that he cannot place. “Victor gives what you and your friends can never give me, brother. I am an ally to him, an equal, and no mere satellite, serving your and All-Father's interests.”

“An equal.” Thor looks from his brother to Doom, who stands now, a green-caped, iron monolith. “Are you his equal, brother? Does such as he ever acknowledge equality with any?”

At once, Loki's face darkens. He made a misstep; Thor knows it e'en before his brother speaks. “Of course, none may judge a man's character properly save the Thunderer alone.”

And he should lose Loki over a misspoken word or two... – And he should have come here, groveled before a man who is below him, and then walk away alone: It is unthinkable! “Brother, you know the clumsiness of my words better than any.” He speaks slowly, simply. “But you know the loyalty that is in my heart. I will always...”

_I will always love you,_ he would have said, the declaration inappropriate in this surrounding, but forced by his determination to communicate his heart fully at long last. Doom interrupts: “Loyalty is cheap. It can be bought. – Forced. You will feel no lack of loyalty once the world is under my control.”

The distance has narrowed between them, as Doom's moved forward. Loki now narrows it further. “Do you interrupt me again, Victor? Is this how you show honor to your allies?” He turns back to Thor. “I would leave, that we should discuss this, brother. In truth, I must hear you out fully.”

It is his chance! Thor feels a surge of eagerness. But they will not leave the tyrant of Latveria's presence so easily, of that he is sure. Already, Doom speaks.

“ _Leave_?” There is nothing but condescension in his voice, but Thor can see his gauntleted hands, fisting and un-fisting. “With _him_? With the very one you came to escape, Loki?”

Loki's voice is soft. “With my _brother_ , Victor.”

Massing in the corners now, Thor sees many servants: Men? Or the mechanized war-machines Doom calls Doom-bots? They stand quiet, as if waiting, but Doom does not summon them. Instead, there is a long silence. Then he takes a breath. “You may go, but you will return, Loki. We have an agreement, remember.”

“He will not let you leave.” Thor touches Loki's arm. “It will be a fight.”

“No fight, for I know your brother's power.” The words come grating from Doom, as though he cannot bear to say them. “Do you take me for the fool you are yourself, Thunderer?” He turns to Loki. For a moment his hands move, as though he would make appeal. Then they are at his sides again. “I offer you power, Loki, the chance to re-make the world in our image. – I offer the chance to return to your world and re-take it. – We will reign together, me on Earth, and you in fair Asgard.”

“I go.” Loki's voice is uneven. “Mayhaps I will return, Victor. I would ...I would hear my brother out, and you cannot be quiet.”

“As you wish, my partner.” The words come ill to Doom, Thor can see that. He turns to Thor. “ _You_ will be destroyed. You have crossed Doom of Latveria. I do not take kindly to people crossing me. One day I will come. It will be the end of you and your little friends The Avengers...”

There is more, but Thor does not hear it, as the scene fades and dissolves around him. This is his brother's power to transport himself, and his companions: Loki's power is great, Doom said it correctly. They rematerialize on the street outside the Embassy.

Loki speaks quickly. “You have not won me, Thunderer. I give you only the chance to make your appeal uninterrupted.” He looks around. “The Avengers are near, are they not? I would that they not interrupt us either. Where can we go?”

Thor thinks of his floor at Avengers Tower. They would have peace there, he thinks, and he requested such of their friends. Ere he can speak though, the scene shifts again. They are in an unfamiliar place, in a room spacious and silent, with windows that look out over the city. “A hotel,” Loki says. “I give you one night to make your case to me, Thor.”


	16. Tenderness and the Fear of Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How far will the Thunderer go to prove his love for Loki? Will he return to Doom's grim fortress and make love to him there? Will he leave him there if necessary, despite the risk to his friends?

One night, one night only. Loki stands looking away from him, the light from the window silhouetting his pure, perfect features. He has removed his battle armor, and wears instead, a simple, dark suit. It is a sign, Thor thinks: Loki is giving him a fair chance for reconciliation.

The room around them is magnificent, e'en beyond the magnificence they shared at Avengers Tower. Thor looks around: There are chairs, a table, a large bed. He wonders if there is a purpose in Loki's having brought them to this place in particular. He takes a seat, the chair elegant, but solid withall, and properly sized to his proportions. Now he looks up at his brother, who still stands at the window. 

“One night.” Loki turns to look at him. Thor is looking into his green eyes. He tries to discern what he sees there, but as always, he cannot.

“My brother – Loki...” Here, as at the Embassy, he must choose his words carefully. He would not – He _must_ not! – waste this opportunity Loki has given him. “Your thoughts are ever too complex for me...”

“No.” Loki's interruption takes him by surprise. He sounds frustrated, almost angry. “No, by Odin's beard, they are not. I will not – _We_ , Thor, we will not live by these simple designations any more. I am tired of being the complex one, whose dark thoughts are beyond others' understanding. I have no thoughts, but only feelings. And what of you, Thunderer? What do you have?”

“I?” Loki has said he would be simple with him, but this soundeth not simple. “I have ...my power?”

“That Odin gave you, yes.” It is not quite a snort he hears Loki make, but it is close to it. This is not the answer he wanted. “What do _you_ have, Thor? What is it you burn so to offer me?”

Thor searches his mind. What can he say? What will please his brother, what keep him here with him? “I ...F-feelings,” he says. “I ...I as you, have feelings.”

Loki's eyes warm. This was the correct answer. “And what are those feelings? Tell them to me, Thor. Now, while there are none to interpret what you say but only me and thee.”

“I ...would be with you.” As he speaks, it becomes clearer. Now he speaks only his heart, and that he understands. Thor starts from his seat. He takes Loki's hands in his own, larger hands. “I too am tired, brother, of having you and others place meanings on what I feel in my heart. I want you close to me, but I will not dictate terms. It is enough to make me happy simply that you are close.”

“Close.” Loki pulls back, but he does not pull away. His cool hands are still cradled in Thor's warm ones. “As Mother is close to All-Father? On a throne, lower than yours, in Hlidskialf?”

“Close in my heart, whate'er that means. What would you be to me, Loki? Brother? Shield-mate?” He swallows as he adds the last, his best-desired hope. “...Lover?”

Loki's eyes go wide. Thor hears his breath catch. “I...” He looks away. “And I gave you that, what then? I have been too long in your shadow, Thor.”

_In his shadow..._ Loki has said this before. He believes that Thor would control him... – Nay, Thor has tried to do so in the past. “I would not control you brother, for I have learned that invites only failure. You are your own man, as I am mine. I will do whate'er you wish, to prove that I understand this. What do you ask, brother? You have only to say it.”

For a long moment they look at each other. Loki's eyes are unreadable. They are warm, but they are distant as well. Finally, he speaks: “Take me back.” 

His words make no sense. Back? To where? Thor can only feel his way with his response. “You would ...return to Avengers Tower with me?”

“I would return to the Latverian Embassy, Thor.” Loki smiles, but it is all on his lips. The warmth in his eyes has cooled. “I will be your lover there, and you wish it so.”

Thor would say yes. His whole body craves to say yes. And he does however, to what exactly is he agreeing? “You would...” – It confuses him how his brother's hands still rest in his. He is close and yet he is not-close, the embodiment of the distance that has always lain between their minds, e'en when he could not see it. – “You reject our friends then, but you do not reject me?”

A cloud crosses Loki's face at mention of The Avengers. It is gone in a moment though, and he snorts. “ _Your_ friends, Thunderer, who would have my behavior dictated by your reaction to it. Victor asks less. I assure you, I can bring you to the Embassy and we can lay together all night long, and he'll not object.” A smile, humorless, twists Loki's lips. “I think he will find it amusing. And what of The Avengers, Thor? What will they say when they find out?” 

They will object and with vigor. Thor thinks, suddenly, of the device he is wearing: His friends are hearing this now, he remembers. They are objecting now.

He forces the thought back, but it is already too late. Loki has read it in his eyes. “You are communicating with them, Thor. How? Is it some of Tony's 'tech'? Can I speak to them too?” He looks him up and down. Thor sees him look toward Mjolnir, then turn his gaze away, examining each bit of his armor carefully in turn. 

“Tony calls it a 'wire'.” He pulls the device loose from his skin and draws it out of his tunic to show Loki. This will not destroy their chances of reconciliation will it? “Speak into it if you will, Loki. Our friends are listening, and they will hear what you say.”

Loki looks at the device. Carefully, he puts out one hand and touches it. “Why, brother?”

_Because of Doom._ The words tremble on his lips, but ere he can say them, Loki speaks again. “Do they think I would harm you?”

“Our friends do not understand. Have for them only patience, brother, for they are mortals and limited.” It is fully clear to Thor as he says it, and it should be clear to his brother as well, for he has always been the smarter of them. But does he think with that clever mind of his now, or with clouded emotions?

“Patience, yes.” Loki touches the little device, and it melts, and dissolves into dust in Thor's hand. He looks up at Thor again, and he smiles. “Your own love is so deep, you say, and your trust so great? Come back to the Embassy with me and show me. I would see this _great love_ manifested.”

The hotel room they share is clean and comfortable. It is a neutral place, and safe for them both. Thor thinks about the grim, dark walls of Doom's Embassy, the gold monograms and self portraits that are everywhere there, as if to stamp the entire building with his image. How can Loki bear to go back there? But this is his choice to make, and he has made it; if Thor would join him, it must be on his terms. Thor fights back his qualms. He moves his hands, no longer cupping Loki's hands, but pulling him rather, into the close, warm embrace he has craved for so long. “I will go with you.” He pictures his friends and their reactions, but he pushes away those images as well. Later on he will have to justify this to them, but for now it is him and Loki, as it always should be. Must he deny this taste of happiness to himself, this chance for rebuilding their connection? “I will go because I love you, Loki. You cannot know how much.”

Loki looks down at Mjolnir, then back at Thor, his face unreadable. “ _You_ take us back, Thunderer.” It is a message to All-Father, Thor thinks. And he uses the power of the hammer for such a purpose, Odin will know. This is one more challenge for him, that he, heir to Hlidskialf, should have to set himself against All-Father's wishes so. 

Thor swallows. “Aye, and you wish it, Loki.” He takes the mighty hammer, already thrumming with the energy of his purpose, out of his belt. Energy and thunder crackle, and Loki looks at him, his smile challenging. When the huge windows of the hotel room slam open, Thor tightens his grip around him. He will do this thing. He will dare e'en All-Father's anger, if that is what it takes to be with Loki.

The wind whistles in their ears as they hurtle through the air, spanning in mere moments, the distance between the elegant, Midtown hotel where he and Loki talked, to the dark Embassy overlooking the river. All-Father _knows_ , Thor thinks. He will have sensed Mjolnir's power in action. The Avengers too: If they do not know the details of it, they must at least be getting a sense of what is happening. Are they still at the coffee merchant's, Thor wonders, watching in case he comes back? Have they, instead, “suited up”, as Friend Tony calls it? Are they perhaps, waiting outside Doom's front door now, ready to fight Loki and save him?

Such as he cannot be saved. He has made his choice and chosen Loki, over all that is right and honest in the world. He goes now into the home of a known villain, and foe of his friends The Avengers. He takes his pleasure – His pleasure and his alone, there. After that he will depart and leave Loki there, for Doom to use. It is a double betrayal, of Midgard as well as of Asgard, but he finds that he must do it. So great is his love for Loki that he will forswear all he holds honorable just to have him close this one more time. 

Ahead, are the grim towers of Doom's castle-home. Loki points. “That balcony. It leads to my room. Try not to break anything while landing, Thunderer.”

Because he cares about his iron host's opinion? More so, perhaps, than he cares for that of his brother? 

Thor sets them down gentle as a kitten. They enter, the interior as rigid and unwelcoming as the rooms downstairs. There is a bed, its posts like spikes, its curtains dark-green and dusty. There are high, uncomfortable-looking chairs, and a desk with some books on it. Loki's eyes follow Thor's gaze. He chuckles. “Victor is not one for interior decoration.” 

Thor parts the heavy bed-curtains, looking for comfort in the bed itself at least. “You would... stay here?” ... _Live,_ he thinks, his brother would _live_ here. But he cannot bring himself to say a word that will make it so final.

“My choice, Thunderer, remember?” Loki's lips move and the grim bedroom changes. Thor is sitting on the bed he remembers from his brother's room in Asgard, the broad, comfortable one where they used to snuggle late at night and plan adventures. “Victor would hold me e'en closer, and he knew the extent of my power, but the God of Chaos answers to no man. I am myself, I am Loki.”

His hands move, and he is holding two glasses. A bottle of wine appears on the table next to the bed. Loki pours for both of them, handing one glass to his brother. 

Thor drinks, the cool white wine refreshing on his tongue.

“I can see why you like Midgard.” Loki’s voice is soft. “The fragile, mortal creatures here have their appeal, and you were ever quick with your affections.”

“They have been nothing but kind to me,” Thor says. “And to you, brother. Did not Friend Tony take you in, e'en after what you had done to his realm?”

“Tony...” Loki's face clouds. For a moment, there is emotion there. Then it is gone, and it is as if it never was. “He will be happy not to have my _divisive presence_ in the midst of his team. He and Steve will be happy together, until he destroys their relationship himself. And Bruce will woo the Lady Pepper. And eventually, when danger comes, the others will return: The archer and his Lady Natasha.”

That is longing he hears in his brother's voice, is it not, Thor thinks? It is... Can it be, when it is by Loki's own choice of ally that The Avengers are put into danger? Loki looks down into his wineglass, his fingers still upon the crystal stem.

“You do not need to say farewell to them.” Suddenly the words feel very urgent, and Thor puts a hand on Loki's hands as he says them. “They are your friends too... They are _our_ friends, Loki.”

“They will be neither of our friends after this.” Loki looks up with a strange expression, at once pained and bitterly amused. “Have you thought about that, Thor? About how your mortal friends will react when they know you have lain with one who has allied with as great a foe as Doom? Do you think you can justify such to them?”

Just for a moment, Thor pictures it: He imagines the shock he will see on the good Captain's face, the incredulousness on Bruce's ...the cynical amusement and anger that will be on Tony's. He swallows, and his hands tighten a little. Then he looks back at Loki and he knows he can do nothing but this. Gently, he takes Loki's glass and sets both that and his own, upon the bedside table. He puts one hand upon Loki's shoulder and, with the other, he cups his face. A drop of wine glistens on his lower lip. His eyes are green, and so deep a man could drown in them. Thor looks into those deep-green eyes. He bends to kiss away the wine on his lips. 

“You are more important than them, than anything,” he says, the words heartfelt.

There is no turning back. In a moment, their clothes are gone, ripped or conjured away, and they lie under soft bearskins, kissing as they should have kissed long ago. Loki's hands are against his bare back. His own hands are tangled in Loki's dark hair, disordering the strands his brother arranges with such care. Loki's mouth is open under his, free to him finally, for him to take as he would, and he, with joyous heart, takes what is offered.

Loki's body is a slim reed, against his own muscled frame. His skin is pale, it is silken-smooth and a little cool under his touch. His fragrance is spices, just touched with a hint of something else, something painful, like Midgardian chemicals, that must come of the time he's spent in Doom's fortress. It doesn't belong here, this new scent. Thor would remove it if he could, and replace it with his own smell instead. His hands tangle in the long, dark hair at the back of Loki’s head. He pulls him close, kisses him as he's been longing to kiss him ever since ...Ever since he brought him back to Asgard to face Father's justice there, only he was not able to then. He's only had one chance to show Loki how he feels, one chance until now, and now may be his only, last chance.

For once, Loki gives back as good as he's being given. For once it feels like he wants to be here, and not like the flitting, teasing attentions of a Trickster. His hands are on Thor's back. His fingers move there like he is enjoying the touch, like pulling him close and caressing him have become one and the same. His mouth is open to Thor's, tongue against tongue, teeth clashing in the desperation of their joining.

“I want you,” Loki murmurs with his lips against Thor's. “I want to feel you inside me. Take me... What is the Midgardians say? Fuck me, Thunderer.”

_Why,_ Thor wonders and, at the same time, _does it matter?_ He knows what this is for him, does he need to care what it may be for Loki?

But he does care, and he raises his head and he looks into Loki's green eyes. “I want to give myself to you, to be with you forever.” He just whispers the words, and longing thrums in his voice. “What is it you want, Loki?”

“Then make it so,” Loki mumbles in return. “You want to know what I want?” – There's pain in his voice, Thor thinks, and ...is that longing he hears as well? – “I want less talking and more action.” This, from he who was always the Silvertongue, the man of sly, deceptive words? “ Talking e'er ruins things between us.” Loki's mouth brushes Thor's, his tongue making caressing trails against his lips. “Let us have no more ruination, and mayhap we will have a chance at remaining together.” His hands slide lower. They trace the muscles of Thor's back, his buttocks. He arches his back, pressing close until it feels like every inch of their skin is touching. “Take me, Thunderer.” 

Is it a taking or a giving, Thor wonders, as he moves to obey Loki's command? Who is giving himself here? Who taking? Loki's knees are up, his body open and ready, and his own body, oh how eager it is to give what is being asked of him! “You want me?” He can't help asking it one more time though. “Not just for this one night, Loki? – And not just our bodies?”

“Enough!” Loki's swat against his bare flesh is just sharp enough to bring pain. “Must there be so many words between us?” Thor feels Loki's fingers encircle his own wrists. He takes his hands, re-places them on his pale, slim hips and presses. “Feel that: That is Laufeyson, giving himself to the son of All-Father. Do not question, but take what you are given.” 

“No more questions then, Loki.” Thor strokes the pale skin, so smooth under his fingers. All that has been between them is there in his head: The Destroyer Loki sent to Midgard to kill him, the invasion with the alien army ...His villainous ally, who e'en now lurks, somewhere in this fortress... Once it divided them, he thinks. Now they are divided no more. “I will take...” He whispers it like a consecration. “I will _give_ myself to you.”

With a brusque shove, he pushes Loki's legs further up, further apart, raising the slim hips and preparing for entrance. There is a soft gasp.

“Shall I stop?” he murmurs. His body wants not to stop, it is throbbing for this.

“No.” Loki's voice is urgent. “Can you even ask that?”

He cannot. – He dare not, lest this gift be taken from him. “No more hesitation then.” Thor pushes himself into Loki’s body. He hears his hiss of reaction, sees him bite down on his lip, so hard that a drop of blood wells up, cherry-red. “More!” It is a moan, not a word. “Harder, Thunderer.” 

In truth, the invitation is not needed. He could not have pulled back now, e'en had he wanted to. His body wants this; it is what he has been craving since he saw his brother again, in chains on the heli-carrier. “Yes, Loki...” Between the words, he presses kisses up and down his throat, all over his body, which has been offered to him as a gift. “So much more, because I have so much to give you.”

_______________________

It is the dance of completion. Darkness and light are together as they should be, as two halves of one nature. Thor takes... Loki takes... – Can either of them be said to take, when both are giving so freely? Eventually exhaustion comes. It comes in mid-act: One minute Thor is taking hungry kisses from Loki's body like he will never be satisfied, the next moment both are asleep, and when he wakes, he finds himself with his head pillowed on Loki's stomach.

He stirs. – Not to wake him, but only to adjust his position. Having his head here will prove uncomfortable for Loki. It is an imposition, too much of a weight. Loki moves, as slides upward to lie beside him. He opens sleepy green eyes.

“Are you leaving, Thunderer?”

The words make no sense. Thor can only repeat: “ _Leaving_?”

“Is your revulsion against this place so strong?” Loki's words are critical, but his body belies the rejecting message. He cuddles closer, pillows his head against Thor's shoulder. “Would you return at once to Avengers Tower and disclose all you saw here?”

Nothing of the kind, Thor thinks, and he wonders that Loki could even ask it. Is this another test? Must he give exactly the right answer, or risk losing him again? 

“Come here,” he murmurs. “Let me show you how eager I am to be away.”

It is the right answer, he knows when he hears Loki's pleased laugh, and feels his lips, pressed at once against his own.

Loki's fingers are in his hair, those long, elegant fingers of his, the bitten, black-painted nails their only imperfection. They tickle close to his cheek and along the nape of his neck, only to take sudden hold and pull hard at the blond locks. Loki's lips are against Thor's lips, against his cheek and the stubble of his jawline. Thor chuckles, pleased. “You wake up affectionate.”

“I wake as I always wake.” Loki snorts. “It is you who could not be bothered to notice.”

Thor, for his part, pulls him close, his strong arms, against Loki's pliant, flexible form. His own kisses are clumsy, smacking affairs, but he bestows them with generosity, hoping that Loki will recognize the love behind them. 

“You will muss me.” Loki cuddles close again, relaxed, yawning. He lies still for a moment, and Thor savors the feel of his body's closeness. Then he gives a soft laugh. “Victor will not be pleased when I leave.” 

Thor's heart surges. “Then you are leaving with me, brother?”

Loki hums a little, his breath tickling against Thor's neck. “I did not say I would leave immediately, Thunderer. I said _when_ I leave.”

There is no point arguing or trying to persuade. Thor laughs softly. “You are ever Loki Silvertongue.” He pulls Loki close, and they cuddle together as dawn slowly disperses the night, and finally daylight penetrates even the grim darkness of Doom's fortress. 

Now it is Thor's turn to stir. He would not away, but his friends will be expecting his return. He must make explanation to them, and see if they will accept that he is still a shield-mate.

Loki pulls away, frowning. “Will you leave so soon?”

“I leave only to return.” Leaning close, Thor brushes a wayward strand of dark hair from Loki’s face and follows it with a kiss.

A snort. “The Avengers will not have you.”

Thor gives him another kiss. “Do not mistrust our friends so easily, Loki.”

He stands. Behind him, as he turns away, he can see Loki's bed – _their_ bed, – turn back into Doom's four-postered monstrosity, as Loki rises too, to sit on the edge and watch him. He gathers his clothing, scattered so wantonly about the room the night before, and looks around the room. “Where does one wash, brother?”

“There is a 'bathroom' down the hall.” A smile, a derisive smile, from Loki. “You are familiar with the concept, Thunderer?”

Thor does not allow the hurtful words to penetrate. In truth, his heart aches enough already, at the thought of leaving Loki here. He laughs. “Midgardians and their technology.”

Outside the room, another long, lonely, dark hallway, ending distantly in a staircase, that looks like it would lead to a torture chamber. A faint whirr, as of wheels against flooring, signals arrival of more of Doom's mechanized guards. “Intruders!” The mechanical voices are threatening. “None may pass without authorization of Doom.”

Thor looks back at Loki, still sitting alone on Doom's ugly bed. “What would you have me to do?”

“Obvious. Destroy them.” Loki waits, watching, but Thor does not move. In truth, he would not, for fear of angering his brother's host more than he already has. Finally, Loki raises his own hand, and with a muttered incantation, reduces the mechanical guards to dust. “You may bathe with impunity, Thunderer.”

The bathroom is white-tiled like a laboratory, and dusty, as though none has used it in many Midgardian years. It is a _guest_ bathroom, Thor thinks, and such as Doom have little use for guests. It serves his needs however, albeit minimally. He washes, restores his hair to order, and returns down the hallway to the bedroom, and Loki.

He doesn’t like to think about what he will find there. Loki is the love of his life; he wants him by his side, now and forever. But too soon now, he fears, they will be parted. He will return to Avengers Tower, for he must. He cannot remain in Doom's grim fortress. And Loki, what will he do?

The door to the bedroom swings open under his fingertips. Inside, Thor sees Loki, fully dressed, tidy, and as beautiful as always. He looks Thor up and down. “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry...” Thor swallows. What is there to say? Finally, he blurts the truth: “I wanted to delay the moment when I leave you here.”

Loki looks down. “You will not leave me.” He looks up, and his eyes meet Thor's. – His eyes are deep enough to drown in, and there is longing there, a tenderness beyond what Thor would have e'en thought possible. Then he snorts, his usual sound of detached contempt. “I hope you are prepared to purchase my breakfast, Thunderer. I doubt Victor will be ready to offer any, after I have spoken to him.”

Thor's heart jumps. “Then you have made your decision? You will leave with me? -- Return to our friends?”

“I leave here.” Loki's voice thins. “You fool yourself if you think your friends will have me.”

They leave! They leave now, and together! Thor's heart sings. His fear that the others will reject him is gone. He has done naught but to love Loki, and now they return together. He will be welcomed, and Loki will be welcomed. Has he not once again, chosen the good side over the evil? Naught remains to separate them. There is no further hindrance. Save...

The forbidding visage of Loki's former “ally” fills his mind. “Doom...” He just mouths the word, and his hand goes to Mjolnir at his belt.

Seeing the motion, Loki smiles. “Fear not, brother.” He puts his hand on Thor's arm. “We leave by the front door, Thor, and there will be no hindrance. Think you that Victor knows not of my power?”

Of _my_ power. His brother was ever arrogant. Perhaps Loki sees the thought in Thor's eyes, because he touches his face, his hand light, caressing. “There will be no hindrance, and no combat. Victor will cherish hope that I may return.”

Thor turns, looking at him full-on. “And will you?”

“Mayhaps.” Loki chuckles, a short, bitter snort of laughter. “Must needs I should have someplace to lay my head.”

“The Avengers... – Our friends...”

“Will reject me as Odin has rejected me, as punishment for my 'crimes'.” Loki's voice hardens, his voice grows bitter. He turns, indicating the grim staircase. “Let us proceed, Thunderer.”


	17. When Shield-Brothers Go Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is sure Loki's going to come back, Tony is ...mostly sure. As for Steve, he's willing to go in with the rest of them and persuade him to come back. Only they end up not needing to after all.

They wait for a couple of hours, in the coffee shop across from the Latverian Embassy. Thor's listening device lets them hear the whole thing: Doom's all, “Oh, if you want to see your brother, you're going to have to pay me big-time.” There's something about apples. Some kind of apples. Thor's ready to give them to him. He's in total negotiate-with-terrorists mode. There's nothing Doom can ask for that he's not ready to give him. You can get stuff that way, but it's not as much fun as kicking righteous ass on the baddies, and Tony, who was sort of looking forward to a match-up between Mjolnir and Doom's super-powered armor, starts to feel disappointed.

Then out of the blue, Loki's there. It's not clear if he knows what Doom's like or not. Steve says he doesn't. Bruce says he does, he's fighting the darkness inside himself right now. Bruce knows about fighting the darkness inside yourself. Tony doesn't know. He's always hidden most of his own darkness inside a bottle. If his take on Loki is right, this is all going to hinge on Thor, because however many times he yells that he hates him, the fact is, Loki loves his brother a lot. And Loki doesn't fight for good or for evil, Loki fights for who he loves.

“If he trusts his brother, he comes home.” Tony takes a drink from what's like his third Americano just since they came in there (because it's not fair to take up the table for free, right?). “I'm betting he'll stay. Thor will put his foot in it somehow and piss him off.”

Steve's voice: “Is that what you think about love? That you piss somebody off and then they leave you?”

Tony turns. He looks into blue eyes that are fully on him. “Isn't that what people do?”

“Some people.” Suddenly this is a lot more about Steve and Tony than it is about Thor and his brother. Steve smiles, that good smile of his that's half the reason Tony fell for him in the first place. “I've got a lot of time, thanks to the super-soldier serum. I can afford to wait for even you to grow up.”

“Uh... Guys...” Bruce's voice is very dim in back of him. They're going to kiss, Tony thinks. He and Steve are going to kiss right here in the coffee shop, Steve, who's always Mr. No-PDA, and won't even hold hands in public. Steve, who's still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he's dating a man, and not some bouncy 40's beauty. Their eyes are locked, and Steve's eyes are blue like the American flag, blue like the spacious skies, in that song they always sang right after the Pledge, back in grade school.

Then, right when he feels like he's soaring, like he's got the suit on and he's doing loop-de-loops and barrel rolls in the spacious blue of those beautiful eyes, that's when he hears Bruce again. “The device is dead.”

“Dead?” Steve sounds as dazed as Tony feels. “Who's dead?”

“The listening device,” Bruce says. “Loki melted it, I think.”

They're going back to the Embassy, that's the last thing Bruce heard. Somehow Loki's talked his brother into going back there, whatever the hell that means.

“It means he's going to give Doom those apples,” Steve says. “Those whatever-they-are apples from Asgard, that he wanted. We're going to end up fighting a Doom with Asgardian powers somewhere down the line, and Thor and Loki had better both be here to help us.”

Bruce says he's not going to give him the apples. He says Loki's already proved he can waltz in and out of the Embassy whenever he wants to, he's just going to do that. And besides, someday this is going to come in handy, because he can go in and find out all Doom's secrets. 

This of course, is provided that Thor doesn't find some way to fuck it up with him, and end up coming home all alone after all, Tony thinks. Loki's never struck him as a very forgiving guy.

“If he stays, we go to him.” This is his best idea so far, and it took him until this morning to have it. He's drinking a cup of the godawful coffee Steve always makes if you let him get to the coffee maker first in the morning, and after two or three cups, the one coffee bean per cubic liter is beginning to wake him up a little. He looks at Bruce. “You talk to him. You're good with words.”

Steve's over at the stove, frying something that smells really good. “You should talk to him, Tony. You and Loki get along.”

“Yeah, we egg each other on to do bad stuff...”

“Nobody's going to have to go to the Embassy.” Bruce comes back to the table with the cup of tea he's just made himself (smart guy, to avoid Cap's coffee). “Loki wants to be with Thor, couldn't you tell? He's going to let Thor convince him. They'll probably be back and ready for breakfast any minute now.”

“He wants...” Tony looks at Bruce. “How the hell can you know that?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Duh, it was in his voice.” He sits down, cradling his tea. “He left Doom, didn't he? And you heard how he was talking to Thor. What hurt him,” he says reflectively, “is that we sent Thor in there with a wire. He probably thinks we don't trust him.”

“Well he went to Doom.” Steve brings the plate of pancakes over to the table. He looks at Bruce. Everybody seems to have decided Bruce is their expert-on-Loki now. “He can't be dumb enough to think that's a trustworthy move.”

“Come on, Steve.” Bruce forks pancakes onto his plate. “Do you seriously see Loki attacking you or Tony? Or me, for that matter? Doom's got a million enemies who aren't us, I can see Loki attacking them. Only Doom's also a world-class jerk. Who'd you rather be with, him or Thor?”

“So the whole thing comes down to a cosmic lovers' squabble.” Tony grabs pancakes, no bacon. Some people without genetic modifications have to watch their cholesterol, thank you very much. “Who gets to keep Loki? The mean villain in the cape, or the nice hero from Asgard?”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, because if Thor does come home alone, we're going to go in and play cupid for him.” He grins. “I'm kind of looking forward to picking out a box of chocolates and some flowers. Maybe a nice ring.”

“A ring?” One minute they're alone in the kitchen, the next minute, there's Thor's voice booming right by their ears. “For whom dost purchase a ring?”

Tony jumps, spilling coffee all over his hand. “Goddammit Thor, this stuff is hot!” He grabs napkins and mops. “Haven't you heard of knocking?”

“I should have let you bring us.” That's Loki's voice, and Tony turns to see him in Thor's arms, not looking very happy. “The thunder would have alerted them to our arrival.”

“We're not a 'them',” he tells Loki. “We're your friends.”

He looks at Loki, looks into his bleak, green eyes. “I have betrayed you.”

“Well you could have done better than joining Doom,” Steve says. “What were you thinking? You must have known he wants to destroy us.”

Loki's face shutters. “Victor told me you would use me to learn his plans.”

Thor for his part, looks dark. He glowers at Steve. “Do not speak to my brother so.”

Steve for his part, glares right back. “He's not a kid taking candy from the corner store. He joined forces with a known super-villain. What was the deal? He attacks the Baxter Building but not Avengers Tower? He goes after the X-Men but not us? I just want to know here.”

“You ask because SHIELD will want to know.” Thor bites off the words. “SHIELD has no authority over a son of Odin.”

“Loki!” Bruce's voice isn't loud. It's kind of low, if anything. It's him getting up and going over to Loki that makes Tony notice him. That's what makes Loki notice too, and he turns with an angry look on his face. 

“You would blame me as well?”

“Doom was lying to you.” Thor and Steve are still arguing, and Tony has to strain to hear Bruce's voice. “We can't pump you for his plans, because he can't use the same plans without you. You took away half of his power when you left, and now he's going to need new plans.”

Logic. When in doubt, ask the scientist. A little of the suspicion goes out of Loki's face. Not all of it. “How is it the Captain put it: I 'joined forces with a known super-villain'.”

Tony comes over to him. “You ran away because I said something dumb,” he says. “You'd better stop that. I say dumb things all the time.”

Bruce touches his shoulder. “We don't want to lose our shield-brother.”

“I… Shield-brother?” There's this look kids get on their face when something really nice, really unexpected happens, and they're afraid they'll look like a baby if they act too happy. Loki gets it now. Just for a moment, you see all the anger drain out of his eyes, and what floods in is pure, innocent happiness. Then of course he can't let that show, not and salvage his badass God of Chaos reputation, so his eyes go blank again right away. “Doom said you would not want me back.”

“Well of course he did,” Bruce says. “What's he going to say, 'super-powerful magic guy, go help my sworn enemies The Avengers'?”

Loki looks at Tony. “You said you'd take Thor's side over mine. You and the others.”

Did he? Tony doesn't actually remember what he said. Something about Loki needing to behave himself better, wasn't it? 

Loki's eyes are locked on his, green-green eyes looking into his own brown ones. “Did you mean it, Tony? Am _I_ your friend, yours and the others'? I am the God of Lies, I will know if you do not speak truth.”

“You're our friend,” Bruce speaks first. 

“Yeah.” Tony looks over at Steve. “Tell him, Steve. We're friends, right? Whether he's dating Thor or not?” 

“Of course.” Steve looks at Loki. “But I'll still kick your butt if you ever take Doom's side in a fight.”

Tony sees Loki's eyes flare. He's going to argue that one, he thinks. Then there'll be a fight. Then everybody will leave again. But no. Loki nods. “As any true hero would do.” He looks at Thor, and for a moment Tony can see the love in his eyes, before the shutters come back down and he's cold, cynical Loki again. “As Thor would also do, I am sure. Myself, I am Loki. I fight for myself. And...” He swallows. “And for my shield-mates. I would stay, if you will have me.”

“Of course we'll have you,” Tony says. 

“No question.” Bruce puts out an arm. He's going for one of those manly not-hug hugs that guys do, but before he can make contact, Thor's grabbed him and Loki in a big squeeze. Tony backs away to make sure he's not included.

He sees Steve do the same. “I ...uh, I could make more pancakes,” he says. “You're hungry, right Thor? And some coffee. Want coffee too?”

“Tell me you already had coffee. _Good_ coffee. You went to a coffee place, right?” Tony rolls his eyes. “Steve thinks coffee's still rationed.”

He gets a whack on the back of his head for that. “You know that’s the first time you've actually say you don’t like my coffee?” Steve empties the pot into the sink and stands back. “Do better, Mr. Genius.”

“I'll do better. I'll go across the street and buy some.” Tony looks at Loki, still squeezed in Thor's big arms. “Welcome back, Reindeer Games. What do you want me to get you? Pecan pie latte?”

“I have a new favorite.” Loki actually looks pretty content, in Thor's arms, at least now that Bruce isn't squeezed in there with him. “Get me Toasted Marshmallow flavor, and the same for Thor.” He snuggles closer.

Thor beams. “It is our flavor.”

_Our flavor_. Like they're in High School. It's either the cutest thing he's ever heard, or the most disturbing. “Ri-iii-iiight.” Tony grabs his wallet off the counter. “Two Toasted Marshmallow lattes for the lovebirds.” He heads out the door fast, before they can also tell him what “their song” is, or say they've just been named “Cutest Couple of the Graduating Class.”


	18. Christmas Morning at Avengers Tower, and Everyone is Paired Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow they've pulled it off. They've got everyone back where they're supposed to be, and getting along, and happy. Now all that's left is to relax and enjoy it.

Well as for Bruce, if he were Doom, he wouldn't sit idly by while someone made off with his nice new supervillain-trainee. If he were Doom, he'd send Doom-bots ...which The Avengers would stop. ...He'd kidnap someone ...and The Avengers would rescue them. ...Okay, scratch those: He'd come up with a plan. For all they know, maybe he did come up with a plan. He's probably got a fiendishly clever one, with lots of long-term waiting involved, he just won't reveal it until he's got every detail in place. Steve had better talk to Reed Richards about his old arch-nemesis, the next time he's at the Baxter Building. They don't want to get caught unprepared.

For now though, everything is pretty peaceful. Loki and Thor are flat-out sharing the same room now, Loki's room, because he's the one staying here long-term. Tony's finally shaken the guilt he was carrying around for so long, and he's acting like his normal self again. Steve, for his part, seems cool with that. He's done making special appearances and school presentations, this close to Christmas, and he's home full-time, and spending a lot of time with Tony.

As for Bruce, well, he's got Pepper. He's really _got_ her. As in they're dating. They're spending the New Year at her cabin of course, plus they've both got some trips lined up here in New York before they go. Plus there's Christmas: She's coming over for dinner and to join them unwrapping presents.

Christmas morning, Bruce wakes up to the sound of rain blowing against the windows. He lies there for a while just listening to it. It sounds like the kind that will last all day. Their guests are going to arrive all wind-blown and wet: Pepper, and Happy, Rhodey, and Clint, and Natasha... – Is Fury coming? He can't remember whether Tony nixed that one or not. That's everyone that's coming for dinner, but there's other people who said they'd try to stop by in the afternoon. Steve said he invited Ben Grimm and James Howlett. He's played poker with them a few more times, since what Tony calls “The Party That Shall Not Be Named”, and it seems to be developing into quite a friendship. For that matter, he's the one who said Reed Richards and Susan might come by too. Steve's developing into quite a host.

A particularly hard gust of rain hits the window, and wakes him the rest of the way. He gets out of bed, goes upstairs to the penthouse, where he finds Steve and Loki drinking coffee together in the kitchen. The lights make a warm, golden little island, closed off from the grey, rain-streaked darkness outside. Bruce smells coffee. He sees a pot of Steve's usual (what Tony calls his Folgers, sucky-ass coffee), but Loki's drinking something different, something that smells an awful lot like a Toasted Marshmallow latte.

Loki looks up as Bruce comes into the room. “Would you like one?” He raises his hand. Bruce sees the cup appear. “I find they are tasting more and more like the ones from the coffee merchant's shop, the more times I try.” 

Bruce wonders how far they still have to go. “No, that's okay. I like tea better.”

Steam curls from the cup in Loki's hand. A tea strainer materializes in his other hand. “I can make tea as well. Mother is very fond of it.”

Asgardian tea. Whatever that tastes like. “Chai,” Bruce says. “I'll make my own, Loki. It's okay.” He grabs his favorite mug (the big green one Tony gave him) out of the cupboard.

“You should give him a chance,” Steve says over the hum of the microwave. “He got mine right, the first try.” He grins. “Best coffee I've had since 1941.”

“Some other time.” The microwave pings. Bruce pulls his cup out and drops in a teabag. 

The kitchen's just this little island of light. The only sounds are the soft noises of them drinking, the only movement, the faint curl of steam rising from their cups. He looks over toward the dark living room. “Somebody should turn on the Christmas tree.” 

“Ah yes, the _tree_.” Loki raises a hand. His eyes glitter, and just for a moment, there's a tiny bit of evil in his smile. But when his hand moves, all that happens is that the lights come on. “One more thing.” He makes a couple more passes with his hand, then looks at the others. “I forgot to put my gifts out.”

_Gifts:_ Now there's a word that could be interpreted a lot of different ways. But Loki's face is perfectly innocent when he looks at them. His smile is calm and mild. “I sent a gift to Friend Victor,” he says. “A cheese assortment, like the one Thor chose for Tony.”

“Friend Victor” is Dr. Doom, right? Bruce's mind boggles a little. He pictures Doom-bots incinerating the package on general principles, the cheese melting all over the floor maybe, and the little sausages sizzling. He looks at Steve, sees his lips twitch a little as well.

“I'm sure he'll like that a lot,” Steve says.

“Yes.” Loki smiles a little smugly. “It is a consolation present for not having my company.”

They sip their drinks for a while, just the three of them together. The night sky lightens, rain keeps battering at the windows. Thor comes in and Loki magics him a cupful of who-knows-what (something Asgardian probably) without saying anything. He sits down, his blond hair still messed from sleep.

Loki looks over. “Thou sloven.” He lifts a hand, and Thor's hair magics as tidy as his own.

Bruce hears a soft chuckle. “You are a mother hen, Loki.”

A while more goes by, a while where it's the four of them, sharing the precious little moment of peace. Bruce thinks it's all going to change when Tony comes in. Tony's not very good at just being; he's always got to be doing something. Then when he does come in though, he just sits down next to Steve.

Loki magics him a cup.

Tony eyes it. “Coffee? I hope?” A nod from Loki. “Just so long as it's not eye of newt or something...” He takes a sip, glares. “And not Toasted Marshmallow latte. You know what I like.”

A smirk. “You are boringly predictable.” Loki mutters an incantation.

“I just save my interestingness for times when it matters.” Tony takes a drink. “Yeah, that's the stuff.” He fumbles in his pocket. “You know Christmas never seems complete to me, unless there's a Christmas stocking.” His hands come up: The little fuzzy red stocking he's holding says “Steve”, in glittery green letters. There's a lump in the toe. “You're allowed to open it right now.”

The lump's a jewelry box. Steve lifts the lid. Bruce sees the ring inside, plain gold, smooth all the way around. “Classic, like you, Steve.” 

“Tony...” Steve's finger comes out and just touches it. “I don't know what to say.”

“It's just a present. There's no commitment that wasn't there already. ...On my side anyway. You don't have to do anything that you don't want to. – Although if you're interested, there's a church in Boston. – I think it's big enough to hold all the guests I want...” 

Steve touches Tony's lips, cutting off the flow of words. He grins. “I was thinking you're the one that should wear a ring. I don't have any trouble remembering we're together.”

“Whatever ring you want, Steve. Just say the word.” Tony takes the box and slips the ring out. “Can I put this on you?”

“I thought you were supposed to wait until the ceremony to do that.”

“Always got to follow proper procedures, don't you?” Tony heaves a dramatic sigh. “Does that mean there's going to be a ceremony?” he adds, looking at Steve with a coaxing expression.

This time it's Steve who gives the dramatic sigh (being around Tony seems to be rubbing off, finally). “Since you insist. No crowds.” He takes the box from Tony, slides the little ring out and turns it in his fingers. “No reporters.”

“You're killing me here, you know that.”

“No big party afterwards.” He hands the ring to Tony, who slips it on and seals it with a kiss. “And this,” – Steve slides the ring back off again and puts it back in the box. – “stays here until the wedding day. ...And I get one for you too. What do you want, plain gold? Diamonds?”

“You kidding me? I want chrome, red-and-gold, like the suit.” Tony turns away for a moment, but before he does, Bruce gets a glimpse of his face. It's suspiciously pink... It looks like Captain America has achieved the impossible, of making Tony Stark blush. Then he turns back and he looks just like always. “You realize the reporters will find us whether we invite them or not?”

Steve's hand is, laced with Tony's, the two of them sit very close together. “Don't _encourage_ them,” he says. 

“Agreed.” Tony looks very contented, and for once in his life, manages to stay still and just enjoy the moment ...for exactly two minutes, before he's up doing something again.

_______________________

Loki magics breakfast Asgardian-style, which isn't bad, once you get past the idea of ripping joints off whole roast pigs, and tearing hunks off loaves of bread the size of your head. He magics beer and sweet wine to go with it, which pleases Thor no end. Then, when the rest of them complain, he grumbles and magics coffee and orange juice as well. ...Which also pleases Thor no end. Then he magics Pop Tarts, just on general principles.

The end result is that when they finally finish, nobody feels like they're going to eat, for probably a week, much less do justice to the huge dinner Tony's having catered later on in the afternoon. Loki suggests magicking them all to Asgard to hunt bilgesnipes for a few hours to develop an appetite, and he seems halfway serious about it. – Thor seems to think he's serious at any rate. “It would be mighty fun,” he says, “and the Warriors Three wouldst welcome my new shield-brothers most heartily.”

Mention of the three warriors, whoever they are, seems to cool Loki's enthusiasm a little though. Next, he suggests magicking them all to Steve's gym. Steve's all for it, but the rest of them have smelled Steve's gym; they say no.

“No offense Steve,” Tony says. “Christmas should smell like evergreen trees and roast turkey, _not_ sweatsocks.”

“And there's only one of me that's good at lifting things,” Bruce adds. “And he prefers cars and buildings ...and gods.” He throws a glance over at Loki.

Loki is not amused. He prefers his own jokes, to other peoples'. “I could magic you all hungry again?” he suggests.

No one even wants to think about that, how he would do it, or what it would feel like. They escape into bedrooms and bathrooms to shower, and get dressed (and escape helpful Mischief Gods). It's not until the others arrive that they're all together again, all The Avengers assembled around the Christmas tree, with the lights twinkling, and soft music playing in the background, and eggnog (the real kind, not the Tony-style, all-bourbon kind) for anyone that wants it. Clint and Natasha are there, sitting close together at the end of the sofa furthest from Loki. Fury sits at the other end of the other sofa furthest from Loki. At first it looks like he's going to be all alone and left out, but Tony's friend Happy goes out of his way to make him feel at home, with a conversation about how keeping Stark Enterprises secure compares with running a huge, top-secret nationwide defense network. 

Pepper sits with Bruce. It's funny, actually: Looking around the room, just about everyone's paired off. Even a month or two ago, that wouldn't have been the case. Thor and Loki are so close they look like one Asgardian. Tony and Steve are side-by-side (and Steve's kept the ring on, at least for today, the better to tell everyone). Tony's friend Rhodey's got his girlfriend, and Clint and Natasha have been an item since before the Chitauri invasion. 

Thor's playing Santa Claus. He pulls out a gift, reads the tag out loud. “It is to myself,” he announces. “From Friend Tony.”

It turns out to be a pair of undershorts, red ones, that say something about “My Mighty Hammer” on the front. A laugh goes up (hiding Pepper's groan). “Friend Tony, this Midgardian garment is a wonderful gift,” Thor says and to the others, in the same breath “wherefore doth it amuse you so? I do indeed have a mighty hammer.”

“So do we all,” Clint says. He looks at Natasha (who doesn't look amused). 

Steve grins. “All men do, Thor.” He turns and gives Tony a jab in the ribs. “You couldn't have saved that one until there weren't ladies present?”

“Ladies,” Natasha says coolly, “have changed a lot since your generation, Captain. We're capable of handling the immature adolescents in our lives just fine by ourselves.” She unwraps something colorful and silky and shakes it out. “What a beautiful scarf, Tony. It's surprisingly tasteful, considering.” 

“I had to get you something. Vodka didn't seem appropriate, and Steve said 'no' on the throwing stars. – Hell, how am I supposed to know what Russian women like?”

Pepper chose the scarf. Bruce was there, actually, when she chose it. “If I leave it up to Tony, he's going to get a bunch of joke presents,” she'd said. “And weird things, giant stuffed rabbits and like that. I know Tony, he's still about 12 years old inside.”

Seeing the pair of undershorts Clint's unwrapping, with “Want To See My Bird?” on them (where does Tony find these things?), Bruce has to say, she probably gave Tony too much credit.

“Seriously...” Clint glares at Tony. “Have you ever met a double-entendre you _didn't_ like?”

“It's called humor.”

“It's called lame. Next time let Steve pick the presents.” 

“Fine, and you'll all get K-Rations and Tommy Dorsey records.” Tony points at a green box that says “to Bruce from Tony.” “Why don't you skip that one for a while.”

Who knows what kind of undershorts Tony's found for him. The mind boggles. Something about monsters inside his pants? About how “Hulking” he is? He throws a glance at Loki, and sees mischief in his eyes. He's probably planning more undershorts, and worse ones, for everyone here. Thor though, just nods and grabs a different package. He hands Tony the box he got him at Hickory Farms instead.

Tony opens the box. Right away, Happy, Clint, and Rhodey are making short work of it. And Thor. Seriously, you have to admire the Asgardian metabolism; Bruce still doesn't feel like he's ever going to be hungry, after Loki's breakfast. “These 'smoky links':” He holds up a little sausage. “From whence cometh the name?”

“It means links of a chain.” Loki, who's non-Asgardian heritage has not translated into a non-Asgardian appetite, is eating as well. He waves a hand, and the sausages rise in the air, all linked together. “Midgardians make their sausages of metal. Mayhaps,” he says, “thou shouldst bring some of these to the metalsmiths of Nidavellir.”

“In sooth...” Thor's eyes widen for a moment, then he laughs and hugs Loki tight. “Your humor is ever of the most mischievous kind.” Snatching his brother's sausage-chain out of the air, Thor offers it to Fury. “Wouldst care for a sausage?”

“I prefer my sausages with less magic in them, thanks Thor.” Fury cuts a look at Loki. Ants, boots, and containment cells that don't contain very well, are all written clearly in his expression. “And I prefer my parties with less _villain_ in them,” he's obviously itching to say, but good manners prevent him.

Everyone is on their best manners today. People are polite to Loki. – The ones of them who haven't been here to watch his transformation, from enemy to shield-brother. – He's being nice to them (nice for him). 

Clint unwraps his present from Thor. “Bless this Nest.” He looks at the sign. “Where am I supposed to put this?”

“Nowhere that I'm going to see it.” Natasha gives it a glance, then looks back at the present in her own hands. She unwraps it. “Vodka? You realize what a stereotype that is?”

“Thought that counts, Natasha,” Tony says from his place next to Steve. “Considering he's not from around here, you've got to give Thor some credit for figuring out about Russians and vodka.”

“It's from Loki.”

“Oh, well in that case I might not drink it.”

“I won't.” She gives Loki a nasty stare.

He, for his part, just gives her a smug, green-eyed smile. He's opening a present from Tony. “Pecan pie flavored coffee?” He cuts him a teasing grin. “And a green leather purse? You know what I like.” Thor's blond brows draw together, and he eyes both of them, but Loki just smiles. “You cannot dispute our friend's generosity, can you? On such a day as this?”

“Is this mischief, Loki?” Thor's voice is low. He doesn't want to ruin anyone's Christmas, Bruce can tell, but he's got his own peace of mind to think about.

“It's chaos.” Loki's lips brush his cheek, his eyes flare green just for a moment. “It is my nature, you know that.”

“And what I gave Loki...” Tony speaks up in a hurry. “It was just a present. It doesn't mean anything.” He grabs the top present on the pile and reads the name at random. “To Tony from Steve. – Aww, Steve, you shouldn't have.”

“I practically didn't,” Steve says. “It's just a little present. Can't compare with the ring, or the tickets to Hawaii.”

With them being engaged now, everyone's watching Tony open Steve's present. Bruce, though, watches Thor and Loki.

“I tried to leave you, Thor.” Loki's voice is soft, barely audible over Steve and Tony's conversation. --

“A watch!”

“I know you've got a million of them. – Read the inscription, Tony.” –

Thor's voice is just a little louder. ”I could never leave you, Loki. We are two parts of one whole.”

Loki's answer is inaudible, just a movement of lips. “Yes.”

Thor's big arms go around Loki. The more interesting part, Bruce thinks, is how Loki's arms go around Thor as well. There's an expression on Loki's face, a look near tears, but happy as well. It's the look of someone that's come home, he thinks, after having been away for a long, long time. 

“Those two...” Pepper's soft voice in his ear. “Are they going back to Asgard?”

“Loki wants to visit his mother. He's an Avenger now, though. He's coming back to the Tower again, afterward.”

Bruce looks up. Tony's removing the super-expensive watch he normally wears, and clasping Steve's in its place.

“If you knew how funny that was,” Pepper murmurs. “Normally he's so picky. I saw him get rid of a TAG Heuer once, when he found out the limited edition run was 100,000, instead of 10,000. Is this love, do you think?”

Bruce shrugs. “Or as near as Tony can get to love. I don't know.” 

“I think it's cute.” 

No matter what any of them thought, by dinnertime they're all ready to eat again, which is a good thing, considering the size of the spread. The only instruction Tony seems to have given the caterers, is “make there be lots of everything.” Either that or maybe he said, “make sure you have everyone's favorites.” There's roast meat and mead for the Asgardians, plus all the traditional American stuff you'd expect, ham, and roast turkey and so forth. There's what looks like an entire Russian Christmas dinner down at the end of the buffet, apparently just for Natasha, and from down near the other end, Bruce hears Rhodey saying something about “Sweet potato pie? Tony, are you serious?” 

“There's some mac-and-cheese somewhere too,” Tony answers. “I remember you talking about your mom's cooking.”

You wouldn't think anyone would be able to eat, after the big breakfast Loki made, but they manage. – They all lie around on the sofa looking like stuffed pythons afterward, but they manage. -- After a while, Clint and Natasha leave together. Fury and Happy go, pretty soon after that. “Nick says he knows a bar with a pool table that's open on Christmas,” Happy says. He looks at Tony. “Guess you won't want to go?” A shake of the head from Tony. He looks at Rhodey. “How about you, Jim?”

Rhodey doesn't. He and his girlfriend have a flight to catch that evening, and they leave for La Guardia pretty soon after.

Pepper's next, a little while later. She brushes a kiss across Bruce's lips (Bruce doesn't dare meet Tony's eyes). “We still up for the Met tomorrow?”

“Of course.” – He hears just little, throat-clearing noises, coming from Tony, but he ignores them. -- “I'm looking forward to the Matisse exhibit.”

“You and Bruce...” Tony barely starts talking before Pepper stops him.

“Are together, yes,” she says. “If that is all right with you?”

He gives her a warm smile. This is generous-Tony, the one you can't help liking. “Lighten up, Pep. I was going to say how cute you are together. You're not ...uh, bothered by Bruce's Other Guy?”

“Hulk and I get along just fine, not that it's any of your business.”

It isn't. And they do. “Go back to your husband. ” Pepper sounds fond. “I'm glad you've finally found someone who can keep you in line, Tony.”

The penthouse is a mess. There’s gift wrapping paper all over the place, empty glasses, empty dishes -- and a plate with more food on it, that Thor's still working on, on the coffee table. Loki nudges him. “Your appetite rivals Volstagg's tonight.”

Thor nods. “In sooth. It is the good feeling of knowing we have resolved our differences. I feel I can eat with an untroubled heart.”

Loki tries for a superior look, but fails. “I feel the same.” -- 

On the other sofa, Tony and Steve are looking around at the mess as well. “I guess we should be the responsible ones and clean up?” Steve says.

Tony shakes his head. “That's what cleaning services are...” -- He looks over at Loki. “That's what magic friends are for. I'll bet he'll do it for us if we ask him.”

“Later.” Steve looks at the kiss Loki and Thor are sharing, completely uncaring of how many pairs of eyes are on them. “We'll ask him later.”

“Yeah.” Tony looks at Steve. “Maybe we can enjoy a little of what they're enjoying too right now?”

Steve touches his arm. “Maybe we can go to our room for some privacy first.”

Two's company, three's a crowd. Bruce sees Loki break the kiss for a moment, to eye Thor critically, and brush a little food away from his lips. He hears Thor's soft chuckle. “You are so predictable, brother.” It's about that time, that he gets up to leave the room.

“You are always so messy,” he hears Loki say.

Then Thor's voice, as Bruce is standing near the elevators. “Do you mind?”

“It is part of who you are,” Loki murmurs, “and thus, acceptable.”

He throws a glance back. At this angle, he sees the back of the couch. Thor and Loki are just two heads, one blond, one dark, leaning close together, touched with color from the lights of the tree. They're kissing again, and the only sound is their soft little murmurs of pleasure. Suddenly he feels more in the way than ever. If only the damn elevator would get here! “You guys okay?” he says, even though he knows the answer.

“We are fine.” Thor's voice sounds a little impatient.

“Quite fine.” Loki's however, sounds nothing but pleased.

Yeah, they're fine, Bruce thinks. At last. Loki's got an identity of his own now, and a home that is his through his own merit, and not because of somebody else's generosity. He can afford to give Thor the love he's wanted to give him all along. And as for Thor, he's obviously just waiting for Bruce to leave, so he can start giving Loki some love right now. If the damn elevator would just get here...

There's a ping. Finally, the doors open. “Well if you guys are all right,” Bruce says as he gets in, but he doesn't hear any answer. The doors slide closed, and the elevator starts to move. He leaves the lovebirds to their happiness.


End file.
